


Guard Me

by songofthe52hertzwhale



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Julian being kind of a slut, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stalking, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 82,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofthe52hertzwhale/pseuds/songofthe52hertzwhale
Summary: Logan Wright is a young but promising bodyguard, known for protecting his clients at all costs. Julian Larson's an actor, who's begun to receive increasingly threatening messages from an unknown fan. Dolce Larson, who still holds a significant amount of power over her now-adult son’s team, insisted on hiring new security, Logan included.Logan’s never worked for a movie star before, but he’s heard only bad things about Julian. He has a reputation for being a bit of a brat, for having ridiculously high standards and demanding the best from everyone. He has very little regard for others, and might have the tendency to use people to his advantage.By the end of their very first meeting, Logan hates him. But Julian’s a client, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.





	1. beautiful people, beautiful problems

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this idea came from, but I couldn't seem to shake it. This is likely going to be the slowest of slow burns, but I will promise endgame Jogan. :)

Logan Wright is absolutely _sweltering_ in his suit. He thought California was supposed to be _cool_ , but it’s currently topping ninety degrees in Los Angeles, and he’s sweating profusely beneath the black fabric. He slides a finger beneath his collar, tries to get some kind of breeze on his skin.

 

He isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting, hadn’t had the foresight to put on a watch before he left his apartment this morning.

 

A door swings open down the hall, and Logan straightens as two pairs of stiletto heels click across the floor.

 

“This him?”

 

Dolce Larson looks a little older in person. There are definite signs of aging at the corners of her eyes, and Logan recognizes the traces of Botox in the smooth forehead. She’s beautiful, nonetheless, shiny hair swept back over her shoulders, clad in a figure-hugging black dress even Logan can appreciate. She’s examining him with an intense kind of scrutiny, and Logan feels as if he has to impress her, despite already being offered this job.

 

“John Logan Wright,” the other woman says, an iPad held in her manicured hands, “The agency says he’s the best.”

 

Dolce clicks her tongue, gives Logan a once-over.

 

“How old are you?”

 

“Twenty-six, ma’am.”

 

“Twenty-six?” She asks, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow, “Fairly young to be qualified for something like this, isn’t it?”

 

Logan bites his tongue, refrains from retorting that his new client — her _son_ — is the same age, and isn’t _he_ fairly young to be considered one of Hollywood’s best?

 

Instead, he forces himself to smile, “I work hard, ma’am.”

 

“He’s martial arts trained,” the other woman continues, scrolling through what he can only assume is his resume on her tablet, “M-9 qualified. CPR and first aid certified. Fitness scores are impressive. Background check is flawless. Plus he just _looks_ intimidating, doesn’t he?”

 

Dolce crosses her arms, peering at Logan critically. Even in those ridiculous shoes, Logan has a good six inches on her. He’s broad, too, his muscles visible even beneath the fancy suit. He knows he looks the part of a bodyguard. She frowns. Steps forward.

 

“You’ll protect my son?” She asks. It doesn’t quite sound like a question.

 

“With my life,” Logan says sincerely, “It’s my job, ma’am.”

 

There’s a pause as she examines him.

 

“Call me Dolce. None of this _ma’am_ nonsense,” she says, before spinning on one heel and clicking out of the room. 

 

The other woman steps forward, still scrolling on her tablet.

 

“Carmen De La Cruz,” she says, by way of introduction, “Head of Mr. Larson’s team. I have a few non-disclosure agreements I need you to sign.”

 

She holds the tablet out to him, filled with pages of complicated legalize. Logan takes it, skims through a few paragraphs.

 

“All standard?” He asks, “The basic don’t-spill-his-secrets, no-selling-stories stuff?”

 

Carmen nods, briskly, “We have a law firm on retainer. We won’t hesitate to sue if anything gets leaked.”

 

He’s already signed a half-dozen of these through the security agency. He doesn’t argue, assumes that something like this is normal for a celebrity of Julian Larson’s caliber.

 

He scrawls his name across the document. Carmen takes it back, looks it over.

 

“Right,” she says, “Has anyone caught you up on the current situation?”

 

“The agency had some information,” Logan tries to remember the brief he’d gotten, “He’s been receiving threatening messages since his current movie was announced?”

 

“That’s correct,” Carmen slips her tablet into her handbag, crosses thin arms over her chest, “We’ve been dealing with crazed fans for years. He’s been famous since he was just a picture on an ultrasound. But these latest ones are…they’re rather pointed. All seem to be from the same person, and they’ve made direct threats against him and people he cares for.”

 

“So he’s upping security until the police figure out who it is, then?”

 

“ _He_ felt he could handle it,” Carmen responds, looking a little annoyed, “He doesn’t seem to think it’s of much concern. But some of his friends - and his mother, especially - insisted on this. He may be a little…difficult. He doesn’t like feeling as though he doesn’t have his freedom.”

 

“But he’s had bodyguards before?” Logan frowns. If Julian’s really been famous since birth, it doesn’t make sense that he isn’t accustomed to _some_ form of security.

 

“He’s primarily used the team Dolce has on retainer, and only for high-risk events. Club openings and such, you know. But Alex — you’ll meet him this afternoon — has been with him for the past few weeks. He’s worked for Dolce for a few years now, but she insisted he transfer to Julian full-time. Julian’s schedule can be a bit hectic, though, so we thought it best to bring in someone new. We’re also bringing in two people to work part-time, in case one of you is unavailable or we need extra security.”

 

Carmen leads him down the hall, continues talking as she gives him a quick tour of the house. She points out the various security systems they have set up, gives him the code for the alarm and a set of keys for the house. He walks through the property — way too large for one person, definitely a security _nightmare_ — and mentally clocks all the points of entry.

 

“He has two drivers you’ll be communicating with. Christopher’s the primary, he’s been with the Larson family for nearly a decade. We brought in Lionel a few months ago, as well. I’ll give you both of their numbers, and their hours are listed on the schedule I’ve already e-mailed you.”

 

She pulls a large envelope from her bag, hands it over to him with a solemn look.

 

“What’s this?” Logan asks, as he opens it.

 

“Some of the more recent threats,” she says, “so you can be aware of what you’re dealing with.”

 

Logan pulls a stack of letters from the envelope, scans through them. They’re written in what appears to be blood, though at his concerned expression Carmen clarifies it’s merely red paint. The first dozen or so are fairly tame, typical of what Logan would expect an obsessed fan to send; the more recent messages contain threats to Julian’s friends and family, are written as if the sender _knows_ him. Something about them makes the hair on the back of Logan’s neck stand up, and he starts to understand the justification for all this security.

 

The front door creeks open, and Carmen straightens, pulls her iPad out of her bag, and makes her way to the hall, all without sparing a second glance Logan’s way.

 

“I have your schedule for tomorrow,” she says, and Logan follows the sound of her voice, “If you have a moment to go over it?”

 

“Just text it to me,” says an irritated voice, “I need a shower and a nap, now.”

 

Logan steps into the hall, and comes face-to-face with Julian Larson for the first time.

 

Logan had done his research. He’d seen pictures of Julian prior to taking the job, knew the man was attractive. Unlike his mother, however, who seems a bit more human in the flesh, Julian is even _more_ beautiful than the pictures portray. He looks young — could probably get away with still playing a teenager, if he wanted — and healthy, with glowing skin and a figure that _must_ involve at least one highly-paid physical trainer. His hair falls in waves around his face, settling around his ears. His eyes are a a dark caramel, his lips pink and plush.

 

He’s _gorgeous_.

 

Until, of course, he opens his mouth.

 

“Who is _this_?” He asks, voice full of disdain as he glares over at Logan.

 

Carmen clears her throat, “I texted you. This is John Logan Wright. He’ll be on your security detail from now on.”

 

“Oh, perfect,” Julian says, looking annoyed, “As if I didn’t have enough people following me around already.”

 

There’s a man behind him, obviously another bodyguard, who gives Logan a pitying look and a slight wave. He’s roughly Logan’s height, with dark hair buzzed close to his scalp and biceps that make Logan wish he’d had time to hit the gym this morning.

 

“I assume I’m allowed to go to my bedroom without being followed?” Julian continues, “Or will the two of you be following me into the shower, as well?”

 

He doesn’t wait for a response, shoves past Logan and stomps up the stairs like a child sent to his room without dessert.

 

The other guard cracks a small smile, “Hi. Alex.”

 

“Logan. Not John, please.”

 

Carmen gathers her things, sparing only the briefest of glances at the two men.

 

“Alex, I assume you can handle things from here?”

 

The man nods, snaps a mock salute.

 

“On it, boss.”

 

He holds the door open for her as she leaves, slides the deadbolt into place and secures three more locks before setting the alarm.

 

“So what do you think of all this?” Logan asks him, once they’re the only two left in the hall, “How worried should we actually be about these threats?”

 

He still has them in his hands, frowns down at the red splashed across the pages.

 

Alex turns to him.

 

“Do you spend much time online, Logan?”

 

Logan shrugs, “Not really. I have Facebook, but I really don’t use it much.”

 

“Try looking at some of his twitter mentions, sometime. Buzzfeed articles. His tag on Tumblr, if you’re in the mood for something really crazy,” he laughs a little, “Some of these people…they seem to think he owes them something, you know? There are teenagers in Ohio that actually think they’re in love with him. Middle-aged women in Nebraska that are convinced he’s going to run into them at the grocery store and sweep them away. All kinds of messages from fans acting like they _know_ him, you know?”

 

“But these latest ones specifically, you think they’re actually dangerous? Not just some kid with a flair for drama?”

 

Alex sighs, “To be honest, I’m not sure. He’s been getting letters like that since he was a kid. Some of them are pretty creepy, though. They’ve threatened his friends, his family. People he’s gone on dates with. So far, there hasn’t been any reason to think they’ll _act_ on it.”

 

He shrugs, gives Logan a smile.

 

“They pay well, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but it’s not the worst job I’ve had.”

 

Logan feels like he should be reassured. If Alex isn’t overly concerned, perhaps the threats aren’t as bad as Carmen had said. But for some reason, something about this whole situation still feels _off_ , even if Logan can’t quite put his finger on it.

 

Alex leads Logan to a small room off the kitchen, shows him a wall of screens showing every room in the house. He refers to it as the _Command Center_ , and Logan can see why. The room is set up for them to observe the whole property from the comfort of their chairs.

 

“We have every inch of this place on camera,” he says, “Dolce Larson insisted.”

 

“Even the bedroom?” Logan asks, mostly joking. His smile fades when Alex grimaces.

 

“Julian has…very little shame,” he says, “I try to turn that one off when he has…guests…over.”

 

As he speaks, he points at the screen that corresponds to Julian’s bedroom, just as Julian comes into view. He’s clad in nothing but a pair of black briefs, obviously preparing to step into the shower. His face turns up, eyes directed straight into the security camera. He smirks, slips his thumbs beneath his waistband…

 

Alex clears his throat and shuts off the screen.

 

“As I said. Very little shame.”

 

“…right,” Logan blinks, “So do we have to stay here when he’s just at home? Carmen made it seem like we’re only needed when he’s traveling.”

 

“I usually wait around for a little while in case he decides to go out,” Alex says, “He seemed kind of tired on the ride home, but sometimes he hits a second wind.”

 

“So what does he do all day, exactly?” Logan leans against the wall, eyes scanning the cameras reflexively, “I’ve mostly worked for politicians, so I don’t know what an actor’s schedule is like.”

 

Alex just pulls out his phone, scrolls to a message, and hands it over to Logan. He looks down at the screen, sees a frankly _ridiculous_ list of events and appointments.

 

“Is this for all of this week?”

 

The other man laughs, throwing his head back in amusement.

 

“Oh you’re in for it. This is just _tomorrow_.”

 

Logan looks back at the list, “This starts at _four-thirty_ in the morning. The last thing isn’t until _midnight_.”

 

“He’s a busy man.”

 

“If he’s being threatened shouldn’t he lighten up a little? I mean _honestly_ , there’s three different parties on this list!”

 

“Apparently they’re all necessary to his career,” Alex shrugs, “You learn to get used to it. That last one is a pretty large event, we’re bringing the whole team in for that. You can meet everyone.”

 

Logan sighs and scans the list, tries to commit everything to memory.

 

“So we have to be here at four in the morning tomorrow?”

 

Alex nods, grimly, “Hope you’re capable of working on very little sleep. Once he’s used to you, we can switch off for things like this. But for the next week or so, it’s you and me, all day every day.”

 

“Well if he has to be up at four, shouldn’t he be getting sleep? Or have at least _told_ you what his plans are?”

 

Alex just looks amused, “He has a tendency to do whatever he wants when he has free time. Sometimes I don’t know he plans on leaving until he’s walking out the door. He likes to hit bars and clubs, most nights.”

 

Logan makes a noise of annoyance. He knows he shouldn’t judge clients like this, especially so soon, but Julian sounds like a security _nightmare_. If the situation is really as dire as his management team claimed, he shouldn’t be leaving unnecessarily at _all_ , least of all to go _clubbing_. And to just switch up his schedule on a whim — Logan’s going to have to find a way to change _that_.

 

He catches a flash of movement on the screens. Julian seems to be done with his shower, is making his way down the hallway to the stairs, clad only in a low-slung pair of sweatpants. Alex clears his throat, gestures for Logan to follow him into the kitchen.

 

“What are you still doing here?” Julian asks disdainfully, frowning at the pair. Alex seems to take it in stride.

 

“Just showing him the system,” he says, “Will you be needing anything else tonight, Mr. Larson?”

 

“No,” Julian rolls his eyes, grabs a bottle of wine from the counter, “Leave, already.”

 

He neglects a glass, takes a large swallow straight from the bottle.

 

“Still have to run security checks,” Alex says, voice bright despite Julian’s obvious annoyance with them, “Make sure nobody’s been lurking around while you were out, you know the drill.”

 

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Julian rolls his eyes, storms past the two men and stomps out of the room.

 

Alex grins a little, waits quietly for the sound of his footsteps to retreat up the stairs.

 

“He’s a pain in the ass,” he says, “But he’s harmless, really. He’ll bitch all day, but I think he realizes we could all take him down with one punch.”

 

“I _might_ punch him,” Logan says, “He’s…pretty much exactly how I imagine an ex-child star would act, I guess.”

 

“Don’t call him that,” Alex warns, “ _Child star_ is the easiest way to piss him off. That or telling him he’s only famous because his parents are.”

 

“I think I’m just going to stick to not talking to him as much as possible.”

 

Alex laughs, claps him on the back.

 

“Here, let me see what else we need to get you up to speed on.”

 

He spends the next half-hour giving Logan a rundown of Julian’s current commitments — which somehow consist of acting in one movie, producing another, recording an album, and an absurd amount of interviews and parties — and the average security situation required at each one. He goes over the list of pre-approved guests for the house, a small number of people who are authorized to enter without the normal security checks. There’s strict protocol for doing security sweeps of any restaurant or store he enters, rules for how close they’re meant to walk alongside him. He’s just begun to describe the new part-time members of the security team when Julian walks back downstairs, now dressed in tight black pants and a white shirt.

 

“I’m going out,” he calls, throwing the front door open without waiting for a response.

 

Alex swears, grips Logan by the arm and tugs him outside.

 

“Follow him to the car,” he orders, “I have to lock up.”

 

Logan jogs after Julian — who moves remarkably fast — and to the waiting car. The driver (Christopher, if Logan remembers correctly) opens the door, and Julian slides in.

 

“You must be the new guy,” Christopher says, looking over at Logan, “Is Alex coming?”

 

“Logan Wright. Yes, he is. Did Julian tell you where he plans on going, exactly?”

 

“Domino,” the driver says, “It’s a little tame compared to most of the clubs he goes to, thankfully. He usually doesn’t stay _too_ late.”

 

He gives Logan a knowing look, a slight shrug like he’s sorry for his part in this spontaneous late-night excursion.

 

Logan’s about to ask what, exactly, qualifies as “too late” when Alex appears at his shoulder.

 

“Right, let’s get going, then,” he says, gesturing for Logan to get in the car before sliding in after.

 

Julian doesn’t react. He’s glued to his phone, fingers moving at light speed over the screen. He’s slouched over in the seat, and Alex clears his throat.

 

“Who will you be meeting tonight, sir?”

 

“Clark,” says Julian shortly, still not looking up from his phone.

 

Alex looks relieved. Logan vaguely remembers that name from the list of pre-approved guests, hopes that means tonight will be more of a friendly hangout than a party.

 

Those hopes are quickly dashed when they pull up to the club and Logan sees a line that snakes halfway down the block. Alex steps out of the car first, clears a path from the car to the front door.

 

The moment Julian steps out, the noise outside the club intensifies. A few cameras flash, and Julian smirks down at a gaggle of scantily-clad women all staring in awe. Logan sticks close by him, doing his best to maintain awareness of their surroundings.

 

The club is packed, and _dark_ , and Logan groans with frustration. This is _not_ the kind of place a celebrity receiving death threats should be, no matter how many bouncers line the walls.

 

“Julian!” A voice calls from across the room, and the actor breaks from Alex and Logan, long legs carrying him across the floor.

 

They hurry after him, headed to a circular table separated from the rest of the club by a velvet rope. Julian hops over the divider neatly, settles into the booth beside a tall blond man.

 

“Clark Sawyer,” Alex murmurs to Logan, moving into place beside the table, “Friend of his.”

 

Logan raises an eyebrow at the exuberant way Julian’s greeting Clark, leaning up to press a messy kiss to his lips as the blond snakes an arm around his waist. He settles in, practically in the other man’s lap, and leans over to steal a drink from the table.

 

“Some friend,” Logan says, and Alex just shrugs.

 

The two aren’t alone at the booth; there’s four other men lounging around, all talking loudly at each other. None of them seem perturbed by Julian’s actions, not even the black-haired man whose drink Julian is currently sipping on.

 

Alex’s mostly ignoring the table, eyes scanning around the club. Logan follows suit; he notes every exit, counts the bouncers peppered around the room. Most of the clientele appear rather wealthy, all clad in designer clothing and sipping overpriced drinks.

 

One of the men at the table orders several bottles of champagne, and Julian claims one of them, holding it in his lap as he laughs at one of Clark’s jokes. Before long, he manages to drag the blond out onto the dance floor, and Alex and Logan watch from a distance.

 

“Hey,” one of the men from the table leans over, taps Logan on the arm.

 

“Not a waiter,” Logan drones, keeping his eyes on Julian, who’s currently wrapping his arms around Clark’s neck.

 

The man laughs, “I know, man. J’s new security guy, right?”

 

Logan spares a glance at Alex, makes sure _someone’s_ still doing their job, and turns to the table.

 

“Logan,” he says, “First day.”

 

Another one of the men laughs, “Sorry about this, then. We honestly didn’t think he’d show, Clark said he’s got a crazy early day tomorrow.”

 

“So this is your fault then, Langdon?” Alex calls over his shoulder, eyes still fixed on the dance floor.

 

“It was just a S _napchat!_ ” The man says, and his friends laugh, “Like, ‘lol wish you were here’, you know?”

 

“If you want, we could just tell Clarkie to take him back now,” another one of them offers, smirking, “If it’s easier to keep track of him in his house.”

 

Looking back at the pair, Logan’s pretty sure that’s where things are going anyway. The two are pressed tight together, and Clark’s grinning as he says something into Julian’s ear. Julian throws his head back, laughing. The music changes, a deep, seductive bass, and Julian turns the other way, pressing back against Clark’s chest. Clark wraps his arms around Julian’s waist, one hand so low on his hip it’s almost obscene.

 

Logan almost feels like he’s watching his client _actually have sex,_ glances over at Alex to find him looking slightly bored and completely unsurprised.

 

After a few songs, Clark drags Julian off the dance floor, collapsing back at the table with a groan.

 

“I need water, right now,” he says, fanning himself, “ _Fuck_ , it’s hot out there.”

 

“Might just be me,” Julian smirks at him. Clark rolls his eyes fondly, reaches for the icy glass one of the guys hands him.

 

More champagne is poured, and Logan glances down at his watch. At this point, they’ll manage just a couple hours of sleep before tomorrow’s shift starts. Julian doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave, though, keeps taking offered drinks with a grin. Logan takes to staring at other club-goers, mentally evaluating which ones could be threats.

 

Shortly after two AM, Julian scoots closer to Clark, leans up to whisper something into his ear. Clark bites his lip, looks down at the time and shakes his head. Julian looks a little disappointed, and tugs at Clark’s sleeve. Clark shakes his head again, but rises from his seat, pulling Julian up with him. The brunet stumbles a bit, and Clark stabilizes him with an arm around his waist.

 

“Hey, Alex, and um…” he trails off, shooting an inquiring look Logan’s way.

 

“Logan!” The now-drunk black-haired man from earlier crows, obviously proud of himself for remembering, “His name is _Logan_.”

 

“He ready to go?” Alex asks, and Clark nods.

 

“Yeah. I’ll help you get him outside.”

 

He lets Alex clear a path ahead, follows with Julian hanging off his arm. He helps Julian into the car, leans over to buckle him in.

 

“…are you coming too?” Logan asks, when Clark straightens again. The man looks back at him.

 

“I, um…no. He’s plastered, he’ll just…and I have shit to do in the morning, anyway. Get him home safe though, alright?”

 

He claps Alex on the back, gives Logan a friendly smile before walking back into the club.

 

Alex and Logan slide into the car, nod at Christopher to go ahead. Julian’s slumped against the window, already looking like he’s fast asleep.

 

“It’s about half an hour to the house, if you want to try to get a power nap in,” Chris calls from the front, “I promise I won’t let anyone break into the car and hurt him.”

 

Logan didn’t intend on sleeping on the job, but a thirty minute nap sounds _fantastic_ right now. He leans his head back, closes his eyes…

 

“Wright,” he hears, suddenly, and opens his eyes.

 

Alex is leaning over him, tapping him on the arm.

 

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and stepping out.

 

Logan rubs his eyes, stretches a bit. He looks over at Julian. The actor’s still slumped in his seat, mouth hanging slightly open. He’s snoring, faintly, and Logan prods his arm.

 

“Jul—um, Mr. Larson?”

 

Julian doesn’t move.

 

Christopher turns around, a slight grin on his face, “Hate to tell you, new guy, but you’re _probably_ going to have to carry him up. Once he’s out, he’s out, y’know?”

 

Logan sighs, undoes Julian’s seatbelt and gathers him in his arms. He’s not heavy, thankfully, and doesn’t move much as Logan walks up to the house. Alex’s got the door unlocked, holds it open for him.

 

“Upstairs, second door on the right.”

 

Logan tries to be careful as he makes his way upstairs. He doesn’t want to find out how bitchy Julian will get if he wakes up now. He kicks the bedroom door open, settles Julian on top of the mattress. The spiteful part of him is tempted to leave him like that — fully clothed on top of the blankets. He sighs, figures he should at least removed Julian’s jacket and shoes. He covers him with a sheet, rolls his eyes when Julian whines softly and curls up.

 

When he gets back downstairs, Alex’s standing in the hall, rubbing at his eyes.

 

“He all settled?”

 

Logan nods, “Yeah. Should I have like…set an alarm for him or something? He’s going to have to be up in like two hours.”

 

“Nah, he’s pretty good at being ready on time,” Alex says, “He’ll be hungover as all hell, but that just means he’ll be quiet for most of the morning. You can go ahead and head out, I’ll lock up.”

 

Logan nods gratefully, already barely able to keep his eyelids from closing. He pulls his keys from his pocket, heads out to the winding driveway and slides into his car. For a moment, he debates just sleeping here, kicking his feet up on the dash and squeezing in every second of shut-eye he can. But he’s only got the one suit, and he’s sure Julian will have some snide comment prepared if he shows up to work looking rumpled.

 

He turns on the engine, waves at Alex as he exits the house, and drives the twenty minutes back to his apartment. He barely gets his jacket off before collapsing into bed, groaning as he sinks into the mattress.

 

Logan falls asleep faster than he has in his entire life, thankfully has a dreamless sleep without any thoughts of prissy celebrities bound to make his life a living hell.

 

 


	2. the chase has just begun

When Logan’s alarm blares the next morning, he briefly considers quitting. He’s managed roughly an hour and a half of sleep, and today’s schedule is going to prove a _nightmare_ , he just knows it. He picks up his phone, debates sending Carmen a text about how this job isn’t for him, that he doesn’t _need_ this.

 

But then he thinks about the fallout — the guilt he’d feel for leaving Alex alone all day, the negative review Dolce would log with his agency, ensuring he’d never get a job in private security again. How he’ll have to go back to New York, grovel to his father until he gives him back access to the family bank accounts…

 

He sighs and rolls out of bed, figuring he has time for a five-minute shower. He bathes quickly, towels himself dry, pulls on a fresh suit. He makes a mental note to talk to Carmen, see if they can get the dress code toned down a bit.

 

There’s no time to make a cup of coffee on his way out, unfortunately, and he prays Julian needs caffeine as badly as he does; that maybe the actor will stop for a Starbucks trip on the way to set this morning. By the time he pulls into the driveway in front of Julian’s house, Alex’s car is already there. He curses under his breath, jogs to the door and hopes he isn’t holding them back.

 

It swings open before he can find the right key on his keyring, and Logan’s greeted by Alex’s tired face.

 

“Coffee in the kitchen,” he says, holding back a yawn, “Might wanna grab a cup before Larson snags it all.”

 

Logan nods gratefully, makes his way to the coffee pot. There’s a convenient collection of travel mugs beside it, and he grabs the plainest one before pouring himself a generous amount.

 

“Get any sleep?” He asks after his first sip, already feeling better.

 

Alex shakes his head, “Barely. My wife’s got a cold, she spent most of the night hacking up a lung.”

 

Logan raises an eyebrow, “This must be a shitty job to have with a family.”

 

“Don’t I know it,” Alex sighs, “I’m just glad they hired you, too, hopefully we’ll be able to split this up enough we can actually have _lives_.”

 

“Not like I had much of one to begin with,” Logan says, taking another large gulp of coffee.

 

“So no wife for you, then?”

 

Logan snorts, “Very gay.”

 

“Husband?” Alex asks, unperturbed.

 

“None,” Logan says, shortly, “No family at all, really.”

 

“Well,” Alex says, managing not to look pitying, “Hopefully you have better luck in Los Angeles.”

 

There’s the sound of a door opening from upstairs, and Alex snaps into work-mode. He straightens, smooths his tie down, and grabs his phone, shooting a text off to Christopher to make sure he’s ready for them.

 

Julian walks into the kitchen, somehow managing to look well-rested despite his night out at the club. He scowls at Logan and Alex, walks past them to pour himself a mug. Logan stares open-mouthed as Julian dumps a ridiculous amount of sugar and creamer in the cup, stirring until his coffee’s nearly white.

 

“Well?” Julian lifts an eyebrow at the pair, “Are we ready to go or are you two going to sit here and steal the rest of my food?”

 

Logan bites back a snippy retort, looks to Alex for guidance.

 

“Chris is on his way,” Alex says, glancing down at his phone, “He said another five minutes or so.”

 

“Late. Fantastic,” Julian glares over the rim of his mug, “Real professional. God, where do they _find_ you guys?”

 

Alex’s face tightens a little, but his professional smile stays in place, “I’m sure Travis will understand.”

 

“You don’t know him, alright? So how about you stop speaking for him and actually do your job.”

 

“It’s not, actually,” the words leave Logan’s mouth before he can stop them.

 

Alex’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Logan a little panicked. Julian looks dumbstruck for a moment, blinking over at Logan.

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“It’s not our job,” Logan repeats, “Carmen hired us to keep you safe, not get you places on time. There’s really no need to yell at us.”

 

Julian smiles, then, sickly sweet, “Is Carmen the one paying you?”

 

Logan glances over at Alex, who’s refusing to meet his eyes now, looking rather like he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

 

“I asked you a question, new guy,” Julian says, still with that smile plastered across his face, “Is Carmen. The one. Who pays you?”

 

“No, sir,” Alex answers for him, “You do.”

 

Julian snaps his fingers, “Oh, that’s right. _I_ do.”

 

He takes a step forward, brings one finger up to press into Logan’s chest.

 

“ _I_ pay you, alright? Much more than you deserve too, I’m sure. You work for _me._ So start doing what I tell you, are we clear?”

 

There’s a sharp honk from outside, and Julian shoulders past him, scooping up his coffee on the way out. Alex finally looks up, lips pressed into a straight line.

 

“Don’t pull that shit again, alright? I have a family, I’d like to keep putting food on the table for them.”

 

He grabs his own coffee, gives Logan a pointed look until he takes the hint and follows Julian out the door. They secure the house, set the alarm system and head to the car.

 

Christopher just looks as tired as Logan feels, yawning as he holds the door open for them.

 

“Long day ahead, boys,” he says in commiseration, and Logan feels nothing but dread for the many hours ahead of him.

 

The car ride to the studio is silent.

 

Alex tilts his head back against the seat, tries to squeeze in a half-hour of sleep. Julian has a thick binder in his lap, is flipping through pages and highlighting lines in scripts with a kind of intense focus Logan didn’t quite expect. He doesn’t spare a glance at Logan the whole way, as if pointedly showing him he doesn’t care about him.

 

It’s a relief, almost — if Julian doesn’t hold a grudge for small slip-ups and ill-advised comments, maybe he can still survive this job intact. He’s gotten better at controlling his temper in the past few years, but he just _knows_ that Julian’s going to test his limits.

 

Logan sips at his coffee, tilts his head to the side to stare out at the passing landscape. He can barely make out buildings, the sky still dark in the pre-sunrise. He hears Julian sigh beside him, the next flip of the page a little more violent than before. He doesn’t look; if Julian doesn’t care enough to acknowledge him, he’ll do the same.

 

It’s Logan’s turn to wake Alex up when they arrive at the studio, bumping his elbow as he steps out of the car before Julian can.

 

“For god’s sake, he’s already in there. I think he would’ve noticed if there were any psychopaths waiting for me in the parking lot.”

 

“Protocol,” Alex says, reflexively, and takes his place at Julian’s side.

 

Julian’s still walks fast, making Logan feel like he has to almost jog despite his height advantage. He pushes through the doors, continues briskly down the hall until he reaches a large meeting room.

 

There’s a large table, most of the chairs surrounding it empty. An older man looks up, and Logan’s momentarily caught off guard by how similar he looks to Julian.

 

“You’re late,” the man says, “You said you would be professional about this, Julian.”

 

“I’m three minutes early, actually,” Julian takes a seat, setting the binder on the table in front of him, “I’m also not a child anymore, _dad_.”

 

 _Well_ , Logan thinks, _that explains the resemblance_.

 

Travis — Julian’s _father_ , apparently — takes the binder from Julian, flips through to the first page. Julian glances backwards, looks almost _surprised_ to see Logan and Alex still there.

 

“He’s not going to attack me,” he says, irritated, “You don’t have to stand there watching us. Go get breakfast, or something. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

 

He turns back to the script without waiting for a response, and Alex nods at Logan. They retreat from the room, let Julian and his father get to work.

 

“Alright, they’ll probably be working up until the next thing on his list,” Alex says, checking the schedule, “So we got another four hours or so. You can find a chair here and take a nap, or we can go get some food. Your choice.”

 

“As much as I’d like sleep right now, I could _definitely_ use some food.”

 

“Good call,” Alex starts making his way to the front door, “There’s a killer cafe just down the street. I mean, it’s _okay_ , I guess. It’s the only place open around here.”

 

Christopher’s still sitting in the car when they walk outside, glances up at them as they slide inside.

 

“Figured he’d let you go,” he says, “Food on his dime?”

 

“You know it,” Alex grins, giving him the address for the breakfast spot. Chris pushes the car into drive, a little chattier now without Julian there.

 

“How’s the wife, Alex?” He asks, turning onto the main street, “Any strange cravings yet?”

 

“Just a lot of smoothies,” he says, grinning, “Could be worse.”

 

Logan glances over, “Is she pregnant?”

 

“Yeah. Five months now,” Alex’s face softens, “A daughter, this time. Got three sons already.”

 

“ _Four kids_?” Logan’s eyebrows shoot up, “You have that many kids and you’re working this kind of schedule?”

 

“Told you, _super_ grateful they brought you on too.”

 

“What about you, new guy?” Chris glances over his shoulder, “Any kids?”

 

“Just me,” Logan says, and Chris nods approvingly.

 

“This line of work is a bitch if you have a family,” he says, “I barely spent any time with my kids when they were younger. They’re all grown, now. Emma’s getting _married_ next week.”

 

Alex frowns and leans forward, “Doesn’t she live in Florida?”

 

“Uh huh. Flying out for the wedding on Sunday. Lionel will be covering for me for a few days.”

 

“He isn’t as fun as you.”

 

Christopher laughs, pulling into the parking lot of a small shop, “Good. Make sure Julian thinks the same, I’d love the job security of being the _fun_ driver.”

 

“I’m not sure he _knows_ how to have fun.”

 

They step out of the car and into the cafe, a small little place that’s just barely opened. The owner glances up at them when they walk in, nods in recognition.

 

“Got something new for you today,” she says, waving at them to take a seat, “You, new guy, any allergies?”

 

Logan clears his throat and rattles off the list, a rehearsed speech at this point.

 

“Jeez, man, how are you not _dead_?” Alex laughs, taking a seat.

 

The owner comes by with a tray of coffee, sliding a mug to each of them. Logan accepts his gratefully, still not fully awake. It’s not until he’s halfway through his breakfast — a rather delicious lemon-flavored crepe — that he actually feels somewhat alert.

 

“Well,” Christopher says, once they’ve finished, “Nap in the car until his next gig?”

 

Logan and Alex both nod in agreement, and Christopher tosses a wad of cash onto the table before driving back to the studio lot. Alex claims the front seat, and Logan stretches across the back, makes himself as comfortable as possible and shuts his eyes.

 

“Well,” a voice drawls, pulling Logan from a rather pleasant dream, “You guys are really on the ball with the professionalism today.”

 

He blinks, tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. Julian’s standing at the now-open door of the car, eyes scanning over his three sleeping employees.

 

Alex curses under his breath.

 

“My fault, sir,” he says, “I thought I’d set an alarm.”

 

“It _is_ your fault,” Julian shoves at Logan’s legs, pushes him out of the way as he climbs in to take his seat, “Lucky for _you_ , we finished earlier than expected. Chris, Paramount now, please.”

 

Logan’s almost shocked by the _please_ coming from Julian’s lips, but he’s way too groggy to comment. Christopher yawns, pulls out of the parking lot and makes his way to the freeway.

 

Julian pulls another, skinner binder from his bag, resumes his reading-highlighting-sighing ritual on the drive over. Logan glances at him sideways, a little impressed by how intently Julian’s reading over his lines. He half-wonders why some lines get highlighted in blue and others in orange, but figures he’ll get a highlighter through his eye socket if he asks.

 

He looks stressed when they pull into the lot, counts the pages he still has to look over, glances at the time.

 

Alex looks back when they park, “Mr. Larson, are you ready?”

 

“I have fifteen minutes,” Julian says shortly, “I need silence.”

 

Alex and Chris each nod, quietly turn back to face the front. Logan’s a little antsy, tries to keep himself still so Julian doesn’t snap at him.

 

Julian skims through the rest of the pages, idly tapping his highlighter against the page as he goes. He flips the last page, caps the marker.

 

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

Logan and Alex step out of the car in unison, falling into step as Julian makes his way into the building. It’s a lot more crowded compared to the previous studio, dozens of people milling around. Only a few glance up as Julian passes; most seem to be used to the presence of celebrities.

 

“Hey, J, over here!” Someone calls, and Julian veers to the side.

 

The other two men find a quiet corner with a good view of the set, take their places a few feet from another suited man. He glances over at them, gives them a slight nod, and resumes staring at the people wandering around set.

 

“James,” Alex mutters under his breath, “Studio hired him when all this started to go down. I guess Julian’s co-star got a couple messages too and got a little freaked out. He’s…not a fan.”

 

“Of us or Julian?”

 

“Him. Us by default, I guess.”

 

“What, doesn’t like spoiled Beverly Hills brats?”

 

Alex chuckles a bit, clears his throat when James shoots a glare their way.

 

“He uh…went home with Julian, one night,” Alex says, choosing his words carefully, “Didn’t seem to realize Julian doesn’t really do _relationships_. A little offended when I kicked him out the next morning.”

 

Logan glances over at the man in question, sees the way his expression sours when his eyes pass over Julian.

 

“You’re sure he has nothing to do with the threats?” Logan asks, lowering his voice even more, “He’s not obsessed or jealous or anything?”

 

“Nah,” Alex shakes his head, “Threats started way before him. Besides, it’s not like they had a _thing_ , you know? It was over after like four hours.”

 

“Still,” Logan side-eyes the man, resolves to keep a close eye on him, just in case.

 

Someone yells for quiet on the set, and they stop talking, eyes darting to their client just as Julian shakes himself into character. The director counts down, and Julian moves into view of the camera.

 

 _“Don’t do this to me,” he says, voice cracking as he speaks, “You can’t…you can’t just_ leave _me here, after everything.”_

 

_Another man takes a breath, turns his head away._

 

 _“I can’t…I thought I could do this, alright? But I just_ can’t _, Robbie. This isn’t worth it.”_

 

 _“This isn’t worth it? Or_ I’m _not worth it?”_

 

_He steels himself, squaring his shoulders as he looks the man dead in the eye._

 

_“Tell me,” he continues, “Tell me the truth. Tell me you don’t love me.”_

 

_The man bites his lip, looks away for a moment._

 

_“Tell me!” Robbie screams, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, “Tell me you don’t love me, Aaron!”_

 

_“…I don’t.”_

 

_“No,” Robbie ducks his head, brings a hand to rub at his face, “No you don’t mean that.”_

 

 _“You asked for the truth,” Aaron says, voice almost cruel, “I gave it to you. I don’t love you, Rob. You_ aren’t _worth it. I won’t lose everything because of you.”_

 

 _“But I_ love _you. I_ need _you.”_

 

_“Well I don’t need you.”_

 

_He turns away, walks out of the room without looking back. Robbie watches him go, trembling. He tries to call out to him, but the moment he opens his mouth, a strangled sob of despair comes out of his mouth, and he collapses, sobbing, onto the floor._

 

“….and…CUT!”

 

Julian pushes himself off the floor, takes the offered tissue from an aide and wipes the tears from his eyes. The other actor turns around and gives him a thumbs up, grinning.

 

“Holy shit,” Logan breathes, eyes a little wide.

 

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Alex grins, “It’s crazy to watch.”

 

“How can someone so _annoying_ be so talented?”

 

“Two decades of practice, I guess?”

 

They run the scene again, with Julian’s co-star reciting his lines a little different, then again, with Julian screaming instead of crying. Logan’s a little fascinated, each time, at the minute changes Julian makes and how differently the scene plays as a result. He’s never really thought much of acting, if he’s being quite honest, but watching this play out makes it almost interesting.

 

There’s a few more scenes shot, at least a half-dozen takes of each one, and Logan finds himself counting ceiling tiles rather than watching the same lines repeated endlessly. By the time they break for lunch, it’s well past noon, and Logan’s _starving_.

 

The actors all head to a long table covered with delicious-looking food, and Logan glances at Alex.

 

“We get what they don’t finish,” he says, in explanation, “There’s usually a decent amount left. Most of them are on ridiculous diets, too, so we get the good, carb-y shit.”

 

Logan looks over, notices most of the actors piling their plates with dressing-less salad. Julian follows suit, though Logan sees him glance around before grabbing a cupcake as well, plopping it on his plate and moving to a deserted corner to eat.

 

“Okay, I think we’re safe,” Alex says after a few minutes, making his way to the table. They scoop up what’s left over — mostly pastas and red meat — and retreat to their spot against the wall, still watching the room as they eat.

 

Julian seems to keep mostly to himself, on set. He sits cross-legged in his chair, plate perched in his lap as he reads over the script again. After a few minutes, his co-star heads his way, perching on a chair beside him and leaning in close.

 

Logan notices the way James shifts at that, clearing his throat and shifting from foot to foot. He’s definitely at least a _little_ jealous, Logan decides, narrowing his eyes at the man.

 

“Not him,” Alex whispers, noticing, “I swear.”

 

“He just gives me a weird feeling,” Logan says, “I think it’s a conflict of interest that he still works here. We should talk to the studio.”

 

“It’s _fine_ , Wright. I promise.”

 

Logan just grunts a little, tries to keep an eye on James and Julian at the same time. It’s easy enough, with Julian being the center of attention for these scenes and James leaning against the wall, unmoving.

 

The scenes are filmed out of order, small snippets of a story Logan doesn’t quite understand. He likes what he can grasp of the plot, though — the man playing opposite Julian seems to be the father of two young children, left a single dad after his wife had passed away. Julian’s character is his best friend, who’d moved in to help with the kids and fallen in love with the man. It’s emotional and heart-wrenching. Not to mention, a big studio making a film about a male-male relationship is, unfortunately, still pretty progressive.

 

They wrap Julian’s last scene, finally, and the actor makes a beeline to Alex and Logan.

 

“We on time?” He asks, shortly, and Alex glances at his watch.

 

“Plenty of time to make Haven’s party,” he says, “Carmen messaged, she has your outfit ready back at the house.”

 

“Good,” Julian shifts direction, walking back to the front doors of the building. Alex types something into his phone and follows. Christopher’s pulling the car around just as they exit, and Julian gets in nearly before it comes to a complete stop.

 

“Home,” he says shortly, not bothering to buckle in, “As fast as you can manage without getting pulled over.”

 

Christopher nods, “Mind if I play some music?”

 

“Go ahead,” Julian slides his sunglasses over his eyes, leans against the window as they drive.

 

Chris flips to a radio station, and soft indie-rock fills the car. Logan sinks into his seat, wondering how long Julian plans on staying at this party. He vaguely recognizes the name of the band, knows they’d been popular with some of the guys he’d gone to high school with. He glances over at Alex, sees him engrossed in his phone, and figures he’s good to do the same.

 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, Googles the band.

 

 _Ah_.

 

He’d known that Clark guy looked familiar. There’s a picture of the band, and Logan recognizes the group of men Julian had sat with at the club the night before. It makes more sense, now, that an actor’s going to the album release of a rock band.

 

His phone buzzes in his hand, and Logan glances at the incoming message.

 

_From: Derek S._

 

_So how’s the gig? He as obnoxious as you expected?_

 

Logan glances up at Julian. He can’t tell if he’s asleep or not, eyes covered by dark aviators.

 

 _Pretty bratty_ , he sends in response, _Seems like a workaholic, too_.

 

The response comes in almost immediately: _So you’re getting long hours with a spoiled former child star? Better be taking your meds._

 

_Yes, mother._

 

He grins at his phone, wishing he had time to have an actual conversation with Derek. But all too soon, they’re pulling up to Julian’s house, and he pockets his phone.

 

Julian races upstairs the moment they’re through the door, and Alex leads Logan on a full security check while they wait for him to change.

 

Everything seems fine. The doors are still secured, the windows locked. The house looks just as it had when they left nearly twelve hours ago.

 

That is, until they check the mail.

 

There’s a lone envelope in the mailbox, unstamped and unaddressed. They share a concerned look, and Logan slides his finger under the flap, ripping it open.

 

There’s no letter, this time. Just a Polaroid photograph, taken last night. It’s from the club — Julian half in Clark’s lap, face turned into the blond’s neck. Clark’s face is violently scrubbed out, paper almost ripped from the force of a pen.

 

Logan turns the photo over in his hands, reads the caption scrawled across the back.

 

_He doesn’t love you like I do._

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Logan hisses, “We were _there_. I didn’t see anyone taking pictures, what the _hell_.”

 

Alex actually looks concerned, taking the photo from Logan’s hands.

 

“I…I have to call Carmen.”

 

He takes the photo with him, striding into the other room with purpose. Logan picks the envelope up again, careful to leave fingerprints only on the very edge, and examines it for anything that could be helpful. There’s nothing written on it, nothing but blank white paper. The lack of address and stamp is worrisome — the sender is obviously close enough to hand-deliver it, knows exactly where Julian lives. Somehow, knew exactly when nobody would be home.

 

The security cameras.

 

Logan ducks into the command center, finds the camera with an angle of the front of the house. Rewinds the footage.

 

A flash of movement.

 

He presses play.

 

A hooded figure walks up to the mailbox, completely covered in long pants and a hooded sweatshirt. They open the mailbox with a glove hand, drop something inside of it, and turn back around, walking off-screen.

 

Logan rewinds it, plays it again in slow motion.

 

He watches the approach to the mailbox, the motion of an arm rising and falling. There isn’t a flash of skin to be seen, no indication if the figure is a man or a woman. The hood completely covers their face, and Logan sighs in frustration.

 

“Anything?” He hears from behind him, and Logan shakes his head.

 

“They kept their head down,” he says, “Can’t see any part of their face.”

 

“Fuck,” Alex runs a hand through his hair, “I told Carmen, she said she’s going to take it to the cops. Maybe they can get some kind of DNA off it.”

 

“We’re canceling the party though, right?”

 

“As much as I’d like to say yes, that’s unfortunately Julian’s call.”

 

“And he won’t.”

 

“Not a chance,” Alex sighs, crosses his arms as he contemplates the situation, “Okay. The album release party should be pretty low-key. Mostly musicians, some family members of the band. You go with him, alright? I’ll stay here, see if I can find anything on any of the feeds, meet with the cops. I’ll try to meet you after.”

 

“You really think he’ll be cool with me going alone on my second day?”

 

Alex rolls his eyes, “I’m not totally sure he knows _my_ name. He doesn’t really want us around anyway, so as long as someone’s keeping him from getting attacked we’re doing our job.”

 

“What are the chances he’ll drive me to insanity?”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Alex laughs, “He’s a brat, not a sociopath.”

 

Logan sighs and nods. He supposes it’s the best possible solution — he doesn’t know the property as well as Alex yet, and he’s perfectly capable to watch over one person for a few hours.

 

“I’m _leaving!”_ A voice echoes through the house, and Logan looks up.

 

“Fuck,” he says, “Alright, text me if you hear anything.”

 

Alex nods, and Logan exits the room, heads out into the foyer where Julian’s sliding on his jacket. He raises an eyebrow.

 

“Just you?”

 

“There was another letter left today,” Logan feels him, half-hoping he changes his mind about the party, “He wants to double-check the security.”

 

Julian rolls his eyes, “It’s just some obsessive fan. You guys are making way too big a deal out of this.”

 

He scoops up a set of keys, and Logan’s eyes widen.

 

“Is Christopher not driving us?”

 

“I do actually know how to drive, you know,” Julian says, “It’s only like, ten minutes away.”

 

Chris hasn’t seem to have gotten the message, is waiting outside when they walk through the door.

 

“Go home,” Julian calls, swinging his own keys in his hand, “Don’t you have a wife to make out with, or something?”

 

Christopher just looks mildly amused, waves at them and slides back into the car.

 

Julian moves towards a beautiful, midnight-blue Bentley, pulls his sunglasses down as he slides into the driver’s seat. It looks brand new, but when Logan sits down the interior is a _mess_. There’s binder-clipped stacks of scripts all over the floor, empty coffee cups in every cup holder.

 

Julian starts the car, and loud music fills the air. He quickly reaches for the dash, slams his hand on the volume button to turn it off.

 

“You can play it,” Logan says, “It sounded good. Who is that?”

 

“…me,” Julian says, shortly.

 

“You listen to your own stuff when you drive?”

 

Julian shoots him a glare, pulls out of the driveway at a speed that makes Logan a little nervous.

 

“I’m recording a new album,” he continues, “I was listening to it to see what needs to be changed.”

 

“You know, I’m kind of a musician,” Logan offers, “I could try to give some input if you want.”

 

“Oh, how many Grammys do you have?”

 

“…well, none, but…”

 

“Not needed, then,” Julian says, reaching for the radio again and turning it to some Top 40 station.

 

Logan sighs, pulls his phone out to text Derek.

 

 _I’m gonna kill him_.

 

_Dude, it’s been a day._

 

_Exactly. I can’t protect this guy. If someone tries to hurt him I might just let it happen._

 

_You don’t mean that._

 

_He’s a dick._

 

_So are you._

 

“Texting your boyfriend?”

 

Logan looks up, “Excuse me?”

 

“What, don’t tell me you aren’t gay. I saw you checking out my ass.”

 

“I was _not_ —“

 

“Wow, super defensive there.”

 

Logan gapes, totally thrown by this sudden turn. Julian rolls his eyes, turns back to the road.

 

“Jeez, learn to take a joke, would you?”

 

He turns down a street, accelerates past a row of huge mansions. Before long, he’s pulling into a long driveway, lined with expensive-looking convertibles and an honest-to-god _tour bus_ , sitting in front of one of the largest houses Logan’s ever seen.

 

Logan chases after him as he parks and hops out. He doesn’t bother knocking, just pushes through the front door and into an already-loud party.

 

“Julian!” One of the men inside turns almost immediately, reaches out to pull Julian into a crowd.

 

Logan sighs and looks around, searches for a good place to keep watch. The house isn’t as open as he’d like, and he’s not sure if he should keep an eye on Julian the whole time or just check up on him every so often.

 

“Hey,” someone says, behind him, “It was Logan, right?”

 

He turns, is hit with a flash of annoyance when he has to look _up_ to meet Clark’s eyes.

 

“Yeah,” he says, “Nice party.”

 

Clark grins a little, looks around at the crowd, “Yeah. It’s getting kinda crazy already, I think everyone’ll be drunk by the time we actually _play_ the album.”

 

Logan just hums, a little confused about why this guy is choosing to mingle with him when he has dozens of guests here. But then Clark’s smile fades a little, and he looks back at Logan with something that almost looks like worry.

 

“Hey, um, could I talk to you about something for a second? In…fuck, I don’t know what’s quiet. The patio, maybe?”

 

Logan looks over for Julian, who’s currently engrossed in a conversation with two of the men from the club the other night.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Clark says, “The guys know about everything that’s going on, they’ll watch him for a minute.”

 

Logan’s still a little unsure, but Clark pulls a white envelope from his waistband, one that looks identical to the one Julian had received that afternoon.

 

He immediately follows him outside, closes the door behind them and holds his hand out.

 

“When did you get this?” He asks, taking it from Clark’s hands.

 

“I don’t know when it showed up, exactly,” he says, “Mikey checked the mail around lunchtime and found it.”

 

The envelope contains the exact photo that had been sent to Julian’s, this one with Clark’s face completely torn out of the picture. He turns it over in his hand, finds angry red letters scrawled across the back.

 

 _Touch him again and I’ll kill you_.

 

Logan takes a breath, “Have you shown this to anyone yet?”

 

Clark shakes his head, “I wasn’t sure who you guys were reporting it to, exactly. Figured I’d talk to you. Do you think it’s the same person?”

 

“Yeah,” Logan nods, “He got the same picture. The writing’s identical.”

 

“Should I get security, too?” Clark looks a little worried, “We usually travel with a team on tour, but I’ve never felt like I needed like…an actual bodyguard before.”

 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Logan says, “I can give you the number to the agency I work through, if you want.”

 

“That’d be great,” Clark looks relieved, “Do you um…do you want me to just leave that with you, or turn it into the police..?”

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Logan says, “Have you told Julian about this?”

 

“No, not yet. I was gonna do that later. Pretty sure it’ll upset him, so I didn’t want to ruin the party.”

 

Logan nods, pocketing the envelope, “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

 

Clark gives him a small smile, heads back into the party.

 

Logan calls Alex, tells him what Clark had received and sends him a picture of the letter before heading back into the party. He lingers along a wall for a while, does a few laps of the room.

 

Julian seems to be having the time of his life, is laughing and talking with every person who approaches him. He seems to be close with every member of the band, not just Clark — they keep running up to him, kissing him on the cheek or pulling him in for a dance. He keeps laughing, throwing his head back and grinning widely.

 

When everyone finally quiets down enough to listen to the album, Julian plops down on the sofa beside Clark, keeps elbowing him at certain parts and grinning after each song. He looks _happy_ , and when Clark leans down to him after the last song ends, his face falls so dramatically Logan takes a step forward. Julian stands, shakes Clark’s hand of when he reaches for him, and crosses the room.

 

“We’re leaving,” he says, as he passes Logan, “ _Now_.”

 

Logan can barely keep up as he makes his way to the car.

 

Julian’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and he doesn’t say a word until he pulls up to his own house. He doesn’t seem to have any inclination to move, and Logan looks over.

 

“Clark’s getting death threats,” he says, finally, “Did he tell you?”

 

“Yeah,” Logan says, “I already reported it, the police should be handling it.”

 

“He’s getting _death threats_ ,” Julian repeats, “Because he’s my _friend_.”

 

“Hey,” Logan reaches over, places a gentle hand on Julian’s shoulder, “We’re not going to let anyone hurt him, alright? I promise?”

 

For the briefest moment, Julian leans into the touch. Then he wrenches himself away, violently.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

He’s out of the car before Logan can blink, walks straight into the house and up the stairs. Just as Logan is sliding the locks into place, he hears Julian’s bedroom door slam shut.

 

He doesn’t see him for the rest of the night.


	3. tomorrow is another day

Julian’s in a _mood_ for the next few days.

 

He cancels an interview, which sends Carmen on a tirade she takes out primarily on Alex and Logan.

 

“Do you have any _idea_ how this looks? Canceling an interview _two hours prior_? We’re trying to avoid having him labeled difficult to work with, what the hell did you two do?”

 

“I think it’s just the threats,” Alex tries to say, “Maybe he’s finally realizing how bad they are.”

 

“Julian doesn’t just skip work,” Carmen says snidely, “This is his _life_.”

 

“Clark got threats,” Logan tells her, “I already reported it but I think it kind of upset him.”

 

Carmen sighs, rubs at the bridge of her nose for a second.

 

“…fine,” she says, “Just…let me know what he actually decides to show up to, alright?”

 

They both nod, and she sweeps out, heels clacking on the marble floor of Julian’s hallway. Alex exhales, looks over at Logan.

 

“He’s gonna be fine,” he says, “Sometimes he just gets in moods like this, you know? He’ll be back to himself again soon.”

 

“I think the Clark thing really got to him. Hopefully he takes things a little more seriously now,” Logan stretches, glances up at their camera feed and sees Julian’s door still closed. It’s been silent upstairs for ages. They’ve checked the bedroom feed a few times — just for a few seconds, enough to see that Julian’s still in there and safe. He flips it on now, sees Julian still sitting on his bed, staring at the screen of his phone.

 

“You know what,” Logan says, looking over at Alex, “You should go home. Go make your wife a smoothie, or play with your kids or something. I can hang out here for a few hours. He doesn’t look motivated to leave any time soon.”

 

“You sure?” Alex is already standing, “I mean, you know you can always text me if he does leave the house.”

 

Logan waves him off, “I got this, really. I’ll order him food so he doesn’t starve, we’ll be fine.”

 

“Thanks, Wright,” Alex grins, “I’ll talk to Carmen, alright? You know the situation by now, we can probably start to switch up the schedule so we’re not both here all the time.”

 

“I could definitely use a good night’s sleep for once.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Alex pulls out his phone, shoots a text to his wife, “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, alright? Thanks again.”

 

He hurries off, locks up behind himself so Logan doesn’t have to do it.

 

Logan just leans back, lets his eyes scan over the various security feeds. He watches a few cars drive by, tries to figure out if the color of the wall in Julian’s dining room is gray or blue. After an hour or two, there’s a faint noise from upstairs, and Logan watches Julian’s bedroom door _finally_ swing open. Julian peeks out into the hallway, as if he’s trying to figure out if he’s alone. Logan clears his throat, pointedly, sets his coffee cup on the desk louder than necessary. Julian hesitates for a moment, but then just continues to walk down the hallway, headed downstairs.

 

“Didn’t think any of you guys were here,” Julian says, when he walks into the kitchen. Logan stands, steps through the doorway.

 

“Not supposed to leave you alone during the day,” he says, matter-of-factly, “In case you decide to actually follow your schedule.”

 

“I hate Ryan Seacrest,” Julian scowls, leaning back against the counter, “It’s not like I skipped anything _important_.”

 

“You were supposed to meet with your dad this morning, too.”

 

Julian looks a little more solemn at that, crosses his arms over his chest and averts his eyes.

 

“Yeah. Well I’m sure he was fine without me.”

 

“…you’re producing it, right? The movie you guys are working on?”

 

Julian nods, “Yeah. Supposed to be.”

 

“…and he’s directing?”

 

Julian doesn’t say anything for a moment. Logan can’t tell if he’s annoyed or not; he gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment, lets out a heavy breath.

 

“I want this movie to be good,” he finally says, “I really like the script, and I just have this like…very specific vision for how it’s supposed to be, you know? But I’ve never done anything like this before, so I asked my dad to direct, because he’s _good_ at this, and I thought he could help me learn. But now he’s just kind of…taking over. He wants to re-write the ending, and he keeps trying to get actors _he_ likes in _,_ and it just feels like…”

 

“Like it’s not yours anymore.”

 

Julian looks up, “…yeah. Kind of.”

 

“Have you told him?”

 

Julian scoffs, “He’s been directing movies since before I was _born_ , I think he knows what he’s talking about.”

 

“If it’s not what you envisioned, though…”

 

“What would you know, anyway?” Julian frowns, his snarkiness returning, “He’s a _genius_ , alright? I’m lucky he’s helping me out with this.”

 

It’s like Julian has a quota on how much information he lets himself reveal, how _human_ he lets himself appear. He crosses his arms over his chest, stares Logan down like he’s waiting for a fight.

 

Logan knows enough at this point to stay silent, let Julian have the last word.

 

“Anyway, I’m hungry,” Julian says, after a moment, “I’m assuming you’ll insist on accompanying me?”

 

“That _is_ my job.”

 

“Fine,” Julian rolls his eyes, grabs his keys from the counter and tosses them Logan’s way, “But you’re driving, then. I don’t feel like it.”

 

Logan just sighs and follows him out, ignoring Julian’s exasperated noise when he stops to check the locks and alarm.

 

On the plus side, Julian’s car drives like a _dream_ , and the driver’s seat is much cleaner than the rest of the car. He lets Julian direct him to some tiny, hole-in-the-wall Mexican place, winces when he sees the run-down exterior.

 

“It’s safe,” Julian says, seeing his face, “You’re stereotyping.”

 

“There’s a bail bonds place next door. With bars on the window.”

 

“It’ll take _five minutes_ , oh my god, nobody’s even _around_ ,” Julian throws the car door open, walks inside before Logan can stop him.

 

“Wait, I’m supposed to check it before you…fuck it, you obviously don’t care.”

 

He follows Julian inside, glances around the building. There’s just one other group of customers, an older couple sitting in the corner. They seem harmless, so Logan observes the staff, next. The man working up front is middle-aged, a little overweight, but smiles in welcoming when Julian slides off his sunglasses.

 

“Ah, Julian,” he says in a slightly accented voice, already moving to the counter, “Same?”

 

“Plus whatever this guy wants,” Julian tilts his head Logan’s way, and Logan’s almost _touched_. He glances around for a menu, but doesn’t find one.

 

“You like chicken or beef?” The man says, already making Julian’s burrito.

 

“Um…beef, I guess?”

 

Julian pulls a few bills out of his wallet, slides what looks like nearly a hundred dollars across the counter.

 

Within minutes, two huge burritos get placed down on the counter, and Julian scoops them up with a nod.

 

“Thanks, Marco,” he says, already turning to head out.

 

“Enjoy,” Marco says to Logan, winking at him, “He is very beautiful.”

 

“Oh no, I’m not…we’re not,” Logan stammers, but the sound of the door opening behind him startles him back to awareness, “I have to go.”

 

He jogs after Julian, manages to get back to the car just as Julian’s buckling up. Julian’s already unwrapping his own burrito, and Logan scrunches his nose as he watches a blob of black beans fall onto the seat.

 

Julian’s silent as they drive, and Logan takes the opportunity to flip to a radio station he actually likes. He sings along, softly, pretends he’s not stuck in a car with the most spoiled brat he’s ever met.

 

He’s turning onto Julian’s street when he notices Julian staring.

 

“What?” He asks, “Is my presence getting on your nerves again?”

 

“No it’s…” Julian frowns, tilts his head a little, “You actually have a decent voice,”

 

“Wow,” says Logan dryly, “What a glowing compliment.”

 

Julian’s still peering at him, a little critically. Logan just parks in the driveway, shuts the car off.

 

“You know,” he says, “You don’t have to act surprised when you find out we have lives outside of watching you.”

 

“I wasn’t…”

 

“My life doesn’t completely revolve around driving you around for _burritos_.”

 

“I _know_ that,” Julian snaps, “Chris has a family, and Alex is on like his seventeenth kid, and you have like…a dog or something, I don’t know. But you guys _work_ for me, I’m not obligated to care about your personal lives.”

 

“Maybe not,” Logan admits, “But you could still make an effort to _treat_ us like people.”

 

Julian looks a little thrown at that, gapes at Logan open-mouthed.

 

“I…you’re an asshole, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

“Frequently,” Logan says, finally stepping out of the car, “More people should tell you, too.”

 

He walks up to the front door, unlocks and de-activates the alarm.

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” Julian says behind him, “You’re not my _friend_ , alright?”

 

“Wouldn’t want to be,” Logan laughs a little, letting him inside, “You’re _literally_ the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.”

 

“I am a _delight_ ,” Julian scowls at him, shoves the second, uneaten burrito into his hands, “You, however, are the biggest dick I’ve ever had the displeasure of dealing with.”

 

He flounces away, stomps up the stairs in a tantrum.

 

“Do you plan on going out again tonight, or can I go home?” Logan yells after him.

 

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

 

Logan chuckles to himself, takes a few minutes to review the security tapes and make sure nobody’s passed by the house while they were out. They look clean, so he locks the place up, takes off before Julian can change his mind.

 

He calls Derek on the way home.

 

 _“Dude_ ,” Derek says, without greeting, _“I’m trying to get ready for a_ date _, this better be important.”_

 

“I actually had a conversation with him today,” Logan says, “Like, I said more than two sentences and he didn’t throw anything at my head.”

 

“ _Wow,_ ” Derek drawls, “ _Are you guys having a sleepover tonight? Gonna paint each other’s nails?”_

 

“I think I’m gonna make it through this,” Logan says, ignoring him, “The police are gonna catch whoever’s sending these letters soon, right?”

 

“ _You’re asking me? I work for a hedge fund, not a police department._ ”

 

“Could you just be supportive, D?”

 

“ _Fine,”_ Derek sighs, _“They’re gonna catch him, you’ll never have to work with an actor again, everything will be fine forever_.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

_“But really, have they let you off the probationary period yet? You gonna actually get a day off ever?”_

 

“Apparently,” Logan says, “Carmen said it’d be a couple weeks, but I think she’s too worn out from dealing with the police. I guess I should call Alex about the schedule, or something.”

 

 _“Cool, I might make a trip your way sometime soon. I still can’t believe_ Logan Wright _moved to Los Angeles, of all places.”_

 

“Far away as I could get without leaving the country.”

 

 _“Lo…_ ”

 

“Don’t, okay?” Logan pulls up to his building, swings into his parking spot, “I’m not talking about it, okay?”

 

“ _I just think you…_ ”

 

“I’m hanging up now.”

 

He pockets his phone, ignores the immediate vibration that follows the ended call.

 

He sighs when he walks into his apartment. As much as he’d hated living with his father, he kind of misses having other people around. His apartment always feels so _empty_ , due in some part to his negligence in furnishing the place. He’d bought the essentials - a sofa, a bed, a table and chairs. But every wall is blank, and he hadn’t bothered with any of the small decorative _things_ that made his house in New York so homey. Part of him wants to call Michelle; she’d always been so good at this kind of thing. But that just opens up a whole network of communication he’d much rather leave behind.

 

He sinks into his couch, picks his laptop up and boots it up. A handful of e-mails lay waiting: a few spam, one confirming that the upright piano he’d ordered had shipped, and a new one from Carmen. He clicks the last one. The message is short, and he skims it before opening the attachment.

 

It’s the schedule for the next two weeks. He’s on for the rest of the week, with Alex taking over on Saturday. After that, it switches off a little more evenly - each of them on for two or three days at a time, depending on how busy Julian’s schedule is Two names Logan doesn’t recognize — Liam and Nicky — but assumes are the back-up security pop up every so often, mostly for late-night events. Carmen’s added a note about the temporary change in drivers, with someone named Lionel taking over for a few days while Chris is on vacation. Logan adds his own shifts to his phone, sets the necessary alarms for each day. He’s a little annoyed to discover he has Julian for _four straight days_ , but assumes it’s because Alex has been handling most of the workload for the past few weeks.

 

He takes a look at the schedule for tomorrow. It’s almost calm, compared to what he’s seen. He won’t need to be at Julian’s house until seven in the morning, and there’s only two things on the schedule. Julian will be on-set until mid-afternoon, followed by a session at the recording studio. There’s no end time for that, but Logan assumes it can’t be _too_ late. He hopes Julian’s still in that mood and won’t feel like going to any parties at night.

 

It’s still fairly early, but Logan feels absolutely _beat_. He still has the burrito Julian had bought in his bag, and shoves it on a plate, puts it in the microwave for a bit. He takes it to bed with him, noting with a little bit of annoyance that it’s _good;_ Julian obviously has decent taste in food. It’s gone in minutes, and Logan brushes the crumbs from his sheets before curling up, thankful at last to get a full night’s sleep.

 

Hours later, he jolts awake at a sudden blaring from his phone, playing the song he’d set as his _ringtone_ rather than his alarm. He squints at the screen, sees Julian’s name flashing at him in the dark.

 

“…hello?”

 

“Where the hell are you?”

 

Logan pulls the phone from his ear, blinks down at the time.

 

“In bed? It’s six in the morning.”

 

“Yes,” Julian says slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “And I want to get doughnuts.”

 

Logan groans, sits up, “Is this going to be a regular thing? You calling me an hour before I need to be there because you just _feel_ like doughnuts?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

There’s a click, and Logan realizes Julian’s hung up.

 

He rubs his eyes, stretches his arms above his head. Part of him wants to just ignore it, go back to sleep for the next half hour. But he’s half worried Julian will decide to leave anyway, will wind up getting attacked outside a Krispy Kreme somewhere, and Logan will be held responsible.

 

So he steps out of bed, makes his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. His hair is next, swept back and gelled just enough to keep it in place.

 

Barely ten minutes have passed since Julian’s phone call by the time he’s straightening his tie and heading out, ready for another long day of babysitting.


	4. killing me softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls don't attack me for any inaccuracies in how movie sets/recording studios work; I am but a sad person writing fanfiction of a fanfiction.

Logan starts to get used to working for a celebrity.

 

He still thinks the schedule is ridiculous - he’d had no _idea_ how many hours a day went into filming a movie, the sheer number of extra side projects that are involved in this profession. Julian has meetings with personal trainers, nutritionists, interviews with radio hosts and on talk shows. He logs hours of studio time, spends all of his breaks reading scripts or doing research.

 

He’d always — perhaps naively — thought that celebrities had _easy_ schedules, that they pretty much did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Maybe it’s just Julian, though. He seems like a textbook workaholic, a perfectionist who puts so much on his plate Logan isn’t sure how he handles it. He never seems to crack, either, is _on_ from the moment Logan arrives to the moment he leaves.

 

“Coffee,” Julian spits at him, walking into the kitchen far too early in the morning. He isn’t looking Logan’s way, has his eyes fixed on a tablet in his hand. The other hand is outstretched, as if waiting for a cup to just _magically_ appear. Logan does actually have a travel mug ready, has finally learned the exact ratio of coffee to sugar Julian likes, but he just waits, a single eyebrow raised.

 

When no coffee appears in his hand, Julian looks up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“You forgot to say please.”

 

Julian rolls his eyes, gives Logan a big, fake smile.

 

“ _Please_ , can I have my coffee, person who I’m _paying?”_

 

Logan clicks his tongue, but hands the mug over.

 

“We’ll work on it.”

 

Julian glares at him as he sips it, looks a little pleased when it hits his tongue.

 

“Is it adequate, princess?”

 

“How about we just go, hm?”

 

Logan grins, follows him out to the waiting car. There’s a man leaning against the hood, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Julian makes a noise of annoyance, jerks the door open with more force than necessary.

 

“Do you mind _not_ doing that around me, man? Seriously.”

 

The man — who’s most definitely _not_ Chris, is a good twenty years younger and six inches taller — tosses the cigarette to the ground, grinds it out with the toe of his heel.

 

“Sorry, Mr. Larson. Won’t happen again.”

 

Julian just rolls his eyes and gets in. Logan walks up to the man, extends a hand.

 

“Hey, it’s Lionel, right? You’re replacing Chris while he’s at the wedding?”

 

“Yep,” the man shakes his hand, looks him up and down, “And you are…?”

 

“Logan Wright. Alex and I are switching off now. You know, with the increased threats.”

 

Lionel scoffs a little at that, like he doesn’t quite believe the threats are all that concerning.

 

“He’s filming first today, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Logan says, but Lionel’s already moving to the car, gives him an expectant look when he doesn’t automatically get inside.

 

“You two done chatting?” Julian snarks, once they’re both seated, “Honestly, I’m gonna start keeping track of how much time you waste.”

 

Logan ignores him, but Lionel seems to shrinks a little in his seat.

 

“We’ll make it in time, Mr. Larson, I promise,” he says, pulling out of the driveway with a screech of tires.

 

Julian looks annoyed at the sound, but just turns down to his stack of binders.

 

Logan pulls his phone out, is utterly unsurprised at the lack of new texts. He does have an e-mail update from Carmen: the police still haven’t managed to find anything substantial. Apparently the only prints on the letters had been Logan and Alex’s, and there’d been no handwriting match in any of their databases. They’d found nothing suspicious on any of the security feeds, no neighbor had seen anyone around.

 

Logan sighs, types back a quick response so Carmen knows he’s read it.

 

Once that’s taken care of, he just sips at his coffee, enjoying the quiet before they get to the crowded, loud studio.

 

It’s even busier than normal, today. Logan has to dodge two running kids when he steps onto set, and Julian laughs a little when Logan almost loses his balance.

 

“Graceful, Wright. So glad you’re the one here to protect him. I feel so safe.”

 

“I was worried I’d _crush them_ , lay off.”

 

Julian smirks, slides his bag off his shoulder and tosses it at Logan.

 

“Hold this for me, would you? Gotta get to make-up.”

 

Logan just rolls his eyes and finds a seat, side-eyes James when he appears beside him. The other man doesn’t say a word, and Logan doesn’t bother trying to make conversation. He still doesn’t totally trust the man, especially when he catches the way he stares at Julian walking around set.

 

Everything seems roughly the same as before. Logan recognizes some of the actors milling around, sees the man acting opposite Julian getting his hair fixed nearby. Julian has two women standing around him, brushing powder across his face. He looks at himself in the mirror, nods at them, and heads toward the cameras.

 

The director calls for quiet on the set again, and Logan makes himself comfortable, watches the scene unfold in front of him.

 

_Julian — Robbie — is standing in what appears to be a lobby. A dozen or so children file past him, giggling and pushing each other towards a set of double doors._

 

_The two children from earlier run towards him, shrieking happily when he scoops them both up._

 

_“Emma! Benji!”_

 

_“Robbie!” The girl yells, grinning big, “Daddy did not say you pick us up!”_

 

_“Well I just missed you so much,” Julian says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head._

 

_It’s adorable, really — the girl is absolutely tiny, and when Julian sets her down he dwarfs her. Nevertheless, she raises her arm in the air, holds out a small hand until Julian crouches down enough to hold it._

 

_“Benji, you too old to hold my hand?”_

 

_The boy frowns at him, opens his mouth._

 

_“I…”_

 

_He pauses. His eyes widen a little. Robbie smiles, encouragingly._

 

_“Maybe just to be safe?” He says, looking pointedly down at the boy._

 

_The boy shifts, looks down at his shoes._

 

 _“I…I…_ mommy I forgotted what to say again!”

 

“CUT!”

 

There’s a small amount of giggling around set, and the little boy just stomps his foot, looking very upset. Julian’s obviously holding back a smile, and the little girl behind him looks as exasperated as a four-year-old can.

 

A young, tired-looking woman a few feet from Logan steps forward.

 

“It’s _maybe just to be safe_ , honey. Can you say that? Maybe just to be safe.”

 

The boy frowns, concentrates.

 

“Maybe. Just to be safe,” he repeats, solemnly. His eyes widen, and his head swivels around, looking up at Julian, “That’s what _you_ just said!”

 

Julian smiles at him, drops to one knee to match his height.

 

“Hey,” he says, “Remembering lines is _really hard_ , okay? There’s so many! You’re doing _great_. I’ll help you if you mess up though, okay?”

 

“Okay!” The boy grins, “I’ll help _you_ if you forget, too!”

 

Julian laughs, holds out a hand for the boy to shake, “Deal.”

 

He stands, and they re-set the scene, everyone scurrying around for a do-over.

 

The second take goes a little better, and Logan watches as Julian films with the kids. It’s much slower-going than normal. The scenes are shot in much shorter takes, and both kids forget their lines a few times. Julian’s remarkably patient with them, keeps prompting them when they look lost. By the time they break for lunch, they’ve only shot what must be the equivalent of ten minutes of film.

 

Logan grabs Julian’s bag, walks up beside him as he piles food onto his plate.

 

“I didn’t know you were so good with kids,” he says, grinning at the look he gets in return.

 

“I was younger than them when I started,” Julian says, “I remember what it was like.”

 

“Still. It was cute.”

 

Julian makes a face, “I am not _cute_.”

 

He turns back to the table, grabs a muffin to add to his plate.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Logan frowns, blinks at him, “Are you…me?”

 

“Obviously. I’m not going to risk you spilling barbecue sauce on my bag, it costs more than your car.”

 

He grabs another plate, looks up at Logan.

 

“…the chicken, thanks,” Logan says, grabbing two bottles of water, “Oh, and that potato salad looks good.”

 

Julian looks up at him, a look of utter disgust on his face, “The potato salad has _pickles_.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Pickles are _vile_ ,” Julian stresses, moving past the tray and scooping greens onto the plate, instead.

 

Logan just shakes his head, follows as Julian leads him to a quiet corner.

 

“You’re gonna help me run this scene while we eat.”

 

“Again, not my job.”

 

Julian sits, looks up at Logan. Takes a deep breath.

 

“I need to figure out how to deliver this line. So I would _appreciate_ it if you could help me out for five minutes.”

 

He’s obviously making an effort to be nice, no matter how fake it sounds. Logan sighs and sits beside him, sets Julian’s bag on the ground.

 

“Let me eat at least half my lunch first, alright?”

 

“Fine,” Julian passes the plate over, digs into his own food with ravenous ferocity. He uses his free hand to flip through his script, pores over the lines for this afternoon’s scenes. Once Logan’s finished off his chicken, Julian hands the pages over, wordlessly.

 

“Alright,” Logan sighs, “Where am I starting?”

 

“Line 39.”

 

He clears his throat, reads off the page.

 

_“What are you even doing here, Robbie?”_

 

_Robbie looks up, brow furrowed, “The dishes?”_

 

 _“I meant_ here _. In my_ house _.”_

 

_“I…I’m trying to help.”_

 

 _“But_ why? _You quit your job. You moved out of your apartment. Why are you_ here _?”_

 

_“You said you needed me,” Robbie smiles, a little shakily, “You said you couldn’t do this alone.”_

 

_“The real reason. Tell me.”_

 

_Robbie takes a breath, closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, they’re a little teary. His voice trembles._

 

 _“…I’m in love with you_.”

 

Logan flips the page, but Julian stops him, looking a little annoyed.

 

“Was that okay? I’m not really sure…like should he be upset about it? Hopeful? Start over, I want to try it again.”

 

Logan obeys, reads off the lines in the same half-interested monotone as before. This time, Julian plays the role differently — he’s not as hesitant, offers Logan a shy smile when he utters the final line.

 

“How was that?”

 

Logan frowns, shrugs a little.

 

“I um…I don’t think I’m the best person to ask, actually? I’m not an actor. I don’t really know the backstory behind these characters.”

 

He expects Julian to snatch the script away, go find someone who’s actually helpful. Instead, Julian leans forward, crosses his arms over his knees.

 

“Okay, so the characters have been best friends since like, high school, I think? Robbie’s always kind of had a thing for Aaron, but Aaron started dating this girl in college and fell like, madly in love. He wound up marrying her, and Robbie was the best man, but he still _liked_ him. So they got married, and Robbie got his own life, but he was still around, like, as a cool uncle for the kids. But then Aaron’s wife got cancer, and she passed away, and Aaron was such a mess that Robbie dropped everything and moved in to help him out. He basically started acting like Aaron’s husband, you know? Like taking care of the kids, the house. He paid some of the bills. Probably overdid it, a little. And when Aaron’s other friends pointed out how Robbie was overstepping, he kind of freaked? Like he’s never considered liking guys before, so he doesn’t know what to do with it. So _this_ scene happens, but after that Aaron like brutally rejects him.”

 

Logan nods along, tries to absorb everything.

 

“So…you’re trying to figure out what Robbie would be thinking during all this?”

 

“Yeah,” Julian’s brow furrows, “Like, if it were _me_ , I think I’d be a little self-conscious? Like, if I liked a guy for _years_ , I’d be scared to say anything. Because what if you can’t even be friends again, after that? What if you told him, and it ruins everything?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure _you’re_ self-conscious all the time.”

 

He means it as a joke, he really does — Julian’s wealthy, and attractive, and talented; Logan doesn’t really see what he’d have to ever be self-conscious about. But Julian immediately closes off again, snatches the script from Logan’s hands.

 

“Forget it,” he says, “You wouldn’t understand, anyway.”

 

“Julian…” he tries, but the actor’s already walking away, headed for the director.

 

Logan sighs, picks his fork through the slightly wilted lettuce Julian had piled on his plate. He really can’t get a handle on Julian’s moods, no matter how hard he tries. Every time he feels like he’s getting Julian to open up, Julian will immediately shut down on him again, will revert back to his overdramatic, bratty self.

 

He sees him across the room, no doubt having the same conversation with the director.

 

He’s not sure why Julian asked him, anyway. Julian can barely stand him, doesn’t seem to want to interact with him at all, most of the time.

 

It’s like he’s playing some sort of game, and Logan doesn’t know how to win.

 

Before too long, the director’s calling everyone to set again, and Julian’s shaking out his shoulders, getting into place for the scene.

 

_Aaron walks into the room, stops in the doorway._

 

_“What are you even doing here, Robbie?”_

 

_Robbie looks up, smiles a little, “The dishes…?”_

 

 _“I meant_ here _. In my_ house _.”_

 

_“I’m trying to help,” he laughs a little, looks a little confused. He shuts off the water, throws the dishtowel over his should as he turns to face the other man._

 

 _“But_ why? _You quit your job. You moved out of your apartment. Why are you_ here _?”_

 

_“You said you needed me,” Robbie says patiently, “You said you couldn’t do this alone.”_

 

_“The real reason. Tell me.”_

 

 _“I’m doing this because…” he takes a breath, moves a step closer, “…I’m in love with you_.”

 

_Aaron looks startled. Opens his mouth…_

 

_…and promptly throws up onto Julian’s shoes._

 

“What the _fuck_?!” Julian screeches, jumping backwards, “Daniel, what the _hell_?!”

 

“Oh god,” Daniel groans, holding his stomach, “I’m sorry I…oh no.”

 

He races off, doesn’t even make it out of the room before his stomach upturns again.

 

Julian steps gingerly to the side, grimaces down at his ruined shoes. Three production assistants race up to him, two holding towels while the third offers a fresh pair of sneakers. He lets them clean him up, muttering to them too quietly for Logan to hear.

 

The director’s yelling, and Logan looks around to see a few other people holding their stomachs, too. A woman grabs a garbage can, retches into it.

 

“Shit,” Logan hears, and turns just in time to see James puke into a nearby box.

 

Logan frowns, moves toward Julian and puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

“If you throw up on me I will fire you,” Julian snaps, still looking repulsed.

 

“You don’t feel sick, right?”

 

“No, what the _hell_ just happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Logan says, honestly, looking around at the panicked faces around them, “I don’t like this, though.”

 

“You’re not the one who got puked on,” Julian looks around, gets the director’s attention, “I’m assuming we’re done for the day, then?”

 

“Seems like it,” the man sighs, “It’s gotta be food poisoning or something, what did everyone — oh god.”

 

He puts a hand over his stomach, grimaces a little.

 

“Go home, Larson,” he says through gritted teeth, before turning and following the parade of people to the bathrooms.

 

“Right,” Julian grabs his bag from Logan, “Guess we’re leaving, then.”

 

He walks out of the building, carefully avoiding all of the ill-looking people running around. Lionel’s thankfully waiting for them, slouched in the driver’s seat with a magazine in his lap. He looks up when the door opens, tosses the magazine aside and straightens.

 

“Where to, Mr. Larson?”

 

“Recording studio, I guess,” Julian sighs, “I’m not scheduled until four, but maybe they’ll let me in early. Could you play—“

 

“Your album? One moment,” Lionel presses a button on the stereo, and an acoustic guitar riff fills the air.

 

“Finally, someone who’s actually _prepared_ ,” Julian gives Logan a rather unfairly pointed side-eye, leans back in his seat and listens to the music. His mouth moves to lyrics Logan can’t hear, lips singing words that exist only in his mind.

 

Three songs play on the way to the studio. Logan knows it’s none of his business, but he can’t help but take mental notes on the music. There’s a few chord progressions he would handle differently, a part where he’d alter the melody just a little. Some harmonies he’s dying to try out, fingers itching for a piano.

 

“We’re here,” Julian says abruptly, gathering his things.

 

Logan opens the car door, looks up at the building. Nothing immediately pops out as a threat, and there’s actually a guard standing beside the door when they walk inside. Julian nods at him, and he lets them pass, down a long hallway lined with heavy doors.

 

Julian knocks on one, gently opens it and peeks his head in.

 

“Hey,” Logan hears him say, a little quietly, “I know I’m early, but…”

 

“No, no, come on in.”

 

Julian pushes inside, gestures for Logan to follow him. There’s a young, pretty woman with bright blue hair sitting at the soundboard, hurriedly sweeping work aside to make room for them.

 

“Sorry, Alice, I know we said four. There was a thing on set, and it didn’t really make sense to go home and come back…”

 

“Really it’s fine,” Alice smiles up at him, “Great, actually. I have a date tonight so I was hoping we’d be able to wrap earlier.”

 

“Oh, with that girl you were telling me about? From the music store?”

 

Logan watches the interaction with mild fascination. Julian seems genuinely _interested_ in the conversation, is laughing and joking around with this woman like it’s normal. She seems almost _charmed_ by him.

 

They talk over what his plan is, and Alice cues up the right tracks for him. Julian ducks through a small door, walks over to a mic set up in the middle of the adjoining room.

 

“So you’re the new bodyguard, then?” Alice asks, glancing over at Logan as she flips a few switches.

 

“Logan.”

 

“You’re not going to stare at my hair like Alex does, are you?”

 

“I…no? I don’t really care what color your hair is.”

 

“Good,” Alice leans forward, presses a button, “Ready in there, Julian?”

 

Julian gives her a nod, and she plays the track.

 

Logan listens to the same acoustic melody as before, watches Julian close his eyes and breath to the music. Then he opens his mouth, and sings.

 

In some vague, theoretical part of his mind, Logan had known Julian had a good voice. He’d heard those opening notes in the car the other day, noticed Julian singing along to the radio under his breath a few times.

 

But this?

 

Julian in a studio, his voice amplified and echoing, poring all his emotions into the song?

 

This is _beautiful_.

 

Logan stares, a little awestruck, as Julian’s voice rises and falls with the music. He manages to make it feel _raw_ , knows exactly where to let his voice waver to hit the right depth. Logan can almost _feel_ the lyrics in his chest, can tell just what chord Julian’s trying to strike with each line.

 

He lets the last note hang in the air for a moment, closes his eyes.

 

“Wow,” Alice says, over the speaker, “Julian, that was _great_.”

 

Julian opens his eyes and frowns, pulling away from the microphone.

 

“Can you play that back for me?”

 

Alice nods, presses a button on her keyboard. Julian only listens up to the first chorus before he gestures for her to stop.

 

“It’s not quite _there_ ,” he says, looking a little frustrated, “It’s _close_ , but it’s not what I want yet. It’s different in my head.”

 

“Okay, well maybe we could try running it again?”

 

Julian shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair.

 

“It’s not…maybe it’s the backing track? Clark did exactly what I asked but it’s not _right_.”

 

Alice hums, leans back in her chair and thinks.

 

“…it’s overpowering his voice.”

 

She turns, shoots Logan a confused look.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The guitar. It’s overpowering his voice,” Logan explains, “He’s a little softer, so he’s having to overcompensate so it doesn’t drown him out. Not volume-wise, just…”

 

“Stylistically,” Alice says, considering, “I think I know what you mean."

 

She contemplates it, plays back a section of the song and listens.

 

“…we could bring Clark in to re-record,” she suggests, “Have him play it differently.”

 

“He’s going on tour soon,” Julian’s voice startles him; he hadn’t realized the speaker was still on, “He’s slammed, right now. He can’t re-record. Let me just try it again, I’ll sing it differently.”

 

Logan frowns, scans the room. There’s a piano in the corner, and he points at it.

 

“You have a mic set up on that?”

 

“Yeah,” Alice nods, “Just give me a sec.”

 

Logan walks into the booth, shedding his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Julian asks, scowling at him.

 

“Just let me try something, okay?” He says, evently, “If you don’t like it I’ll never give you advice again.”

 

Julian looks more than a little skeptical, stares at Logan as he sits at the keyboard and tests it out.

 

“You don’t even know the song,” he tries to argue, but Logan levels him with a look.

 

“We’re just going to _try_ , okay? Trust me.”

 

It’s a testament to how much Julian wants this song to _work_ that he agrees, settling in at the microphone again and waiting for Alice’s cue.

 

Logan doesn’t know the song, it’s true. But he picked up on the basic chord progression, heard enough to give Julian a little bit of background to add his voice to.

 

It’s a little tentative, at first. Julian seems a little unsure how to navigate this change, starts out a little softer than he had the first time. He picks it up around the chorus, though, voice picking up depth and rising above the music.

 

Logan doesn’t add anything fancy - he doesn’t want to overstep his bounds, half-expects Julian to stop this whole thing if he hits a wrong note. He improvises a simple melody where a guitar solo had once been, lets Julian’s voice on the last verse be the most powerful point of the song.

 

When Julian reaches the final chorus, Logan impulsively adds his own voice to the mix. He harmonizes on one line, echoes another. Mimics Julian, a little softer and a little deeper. The final note he leaves for Julian, lifts his fingers from the keyboard as Julian’s voice echoes through the room.

 

“Holy shit,” Alice’s voice breaks the silence, “Holy _shit_ guys, that was amazing.”

 

Julian spins around, breathless, “Can you do that again?”

 

“I…yeah, of course,” Logan says, “You liked it?”

 

“The vocals too?” Julian presses, “That part at the end, you can do that again?”

 

“…yes.”

 

Alice starts talking quickly over the speaker, gives Logan a few tips on his performance. She plays him a few sections of the original track, has him repeat the guitar melody on piano.

 

“But that section you did, before his verse? Keep it soft the way you did the first time, alright?”

 

Logan nods, stretches his fingers.

 

They play it again.

 

This time, Logan has a better grasp on what he’s playing. Julian’s more confident in his vocals. Their voices blend together at the end, and Julian’s actually _smiling_ when they finish.

 

They run it a few more times, until Alice comes over the speaker again.

 

“Alright boys, I think that’s enough for tonight. I’ll get those last few runs on a CD for you, Julian, but no listening to it tonight, okay? Give yourself a break, for once.”

 

Logan follows Julian back into the main room, notices the way the actor’s practically _bouncing_ with excitement. He chats with Alice for a minute, takes the CD from her when she’s done.

 

“Thank you,” he says, “Have fun on your date alright? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

He winks, and Alice laughs.

 

“You know, Sylvia’s a real fan,” she says, with a grin, “I’d probably score myself some major points if I could get her an autograph.”

 

Julian grins brightly, “Well how about you tell her I only sign autographs on the third date?”

 

“Smooth, Larson.”

 

“I could _really_ show you smooth, you know, if Sylvia doesn’t work out,” Julian says lowly, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind Alice’s ear.

 

“Oh my god, _leave_.”

 

She pushes Julian out of the room, and he _cackles_ before making his way back to the car.

 

“Hey,” he looks over at Logan, a real, genuine smile on his lips, “Thanks for that. Really that…that’s what I wanted it to sound like.”

 

Logan shrugs, holds the car door open for him, “I had fun. It’s been a while since I had anyone to play for.”

 

Julian’s actually _nice_ on the drive home. He’s not particularly chatty, but he doesn’t snap at Logan for making noise or order Lionel around. He does ask to hit a drive-through on the way home, orders more than enough food for all three of them.

 

There’s another car in the driveway when they pull up to his house, and Logan stiffens. The driver’s side door opens, and a tall blond man steps out, head turned towards them.

 

“It’s Clark,” Julian tells him quickly, already unbuckling, “I didn’t know he’d be here.”

 

Logan lets him go ahead this time, purposefully taking his time getting out of the car. He nods at Lionel, bids him good-night and tries to give the two celebrities a wide birth as he heads to the house.

 

“…can’t push people away because you’re _scared_ , J…” he hears, as he moves to unlock the front door.

 

Julian mumbles something in response, and Clark sighs.

 

“…don’t need you to worry about me, okay? I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

 

Logan gets the door open, looks back to see if the pair plan on following.

 

Julian looks almost tentative, reaching out for Clark’s hand. But Clark just takes it, winds their fingers together.

 

Logan tries to ignore the conversation, tries to give them some kind of privacy. But they’re standing in the driveway, just a few feet from Julian’s front door.

 

“…not your fault, okay?” Clark says, squeezing Julian’s hand, “I promise.”

 

Julian bites his bottom lip, clears his throat a little.

 

“…do you wanna come up?” He asks, none of that seductive tone from the bar in his voice.

 

Clark looks down at him for a long moment, before nodding, slowly.

 

Logan steps aside for them to pass, clears his throat to get Julian’s attention.

 

“Will that be all, tonight?”

 

Julian turns, looks a little surprised to see Logan still there.

 

“…yeah,” he says, softly, “Yeah, we’re good. Thank you. For today.”

 

“Off course. See you tomorrow.”

 

Julian nods at him, eyes lingering on his face for just a moment before he turns back to Clark and leads him upstairs.

 

Logan turns away.

 

He checks the camera feeds quickly, skims over each room to make sure nothing looks out of place. The feed to Julian’s bedroom has been left on, and Logan looks up at it just as the pair enter. Clark pulls Julian close, winds his arms around his waist and bends down to kiss him. Logan reaches for the screen, fingers hesitating over the power button for a moment. One of Julian’s hands tangles in Clark’s shirt, and he walks them backward, pulling Clark along until they fall onto the bed.

 

He turns that screen off, quickly.

 

The rest of the house looks fine. He spends a moment rewinding the feed from outside the house, double-checking to make sure nobody approached it while they were out. He sends Carmen a text, lets her know that Julian’s home for the night — with a cleared guest — and he’s headed out.

 

Once the security system is set, Logan heads home, a soft melody playing on repeat in his head.


	5. flashes in my face now

Clark’s car is still outside when Logan drives up to the house the next morning.

He’s a little worried about what he might see when he walks in, but the house seems fairly quiet. It’s still a little early — it’s very possible the two celebrities are still sound asleep upstairs.

Logan takes it upon himself to start a pot of coffee. Once he has half a cup in his system, he checks the outdoor camera feeds. Nobody’s come near the house since he left, and the alarm system hadn’t been touched since last night. He leans back, sips his coffee and looks over today’s schedule.

Julian’s working with his father again today. Logan wonders if he’ll send him away while they work, like he had last time. That blocks off most of the day, with a small chunk of time in the middle allocated for an appointment with his stylist. There’s a big event tonight — some kind of club opening — and they look to be brining the whole team in. He’s a little curious to meet the two guards he hasn’t seen yet, wonders if they’ll be as welcoming as Alex.

There’s a flash of movement on one of the cameras, and Logan instinctively looks up. Clark Sawyer is walking down the hallway, wearing the same clothes he’d shown up in last night, albeit a little more wrinkled. Logan expects him to just walk out the front door, starts to head that way to lock up after him.

“Oh,” Clark looks a little started to see him, nearly runs into him at the doorway to the kitchen, “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Tried to be quiet,” Logan says, “In case you guys were sleeping. You heading out?”

“Not yet,” Clark steps into the room, heads to the fridge with purpose, “Does he actually have any vegetables, this week?”

Logan frowns, watching him.

“Carmen brings over groceries, sometimes. He barely ever eats here, though. There might be something?”

Clark’s rummaging through a drawer, pulls back triumphantly with a tomato and a bag of spinach in his hands. He sets his findings on the counter, pulls out a carton of eggs and gets to work.

“You making him breakfast?”

“Just an omelette,” Clark says, greasing a pan, “He never fucking remembers to eat things with actual nutritional value, you know?”

Logan can’t help but smile at that, thinking of how much _sugar_ Julian pours into his coffee.

Clark makes himself busy cracking eggs and chopping vegetables, looking like he’s done this a hundred times. He knows where everything is kept in Julian’s kitchen; Logan isn’t sure that even _Julian_ knows where his pans are stored.

“You want one, too?” Clark asks, looking over at Logan.

“I’m good,” Logan says, “You always make him breakfast?”

“I try to, if I’m here,” Clark flips the omelette, sprinkles a little salt and pepper on it.

“That’s kinda sweet,” Logan tells him, “It’s good he has someone who takes care of him.”

“Oh we’re not…” Clark covers the pan, lowers the heat just enough to keep it warm, “Julian and I…we aren’t like, _dating_ , or anything.”

“Oh,” Logan frowns, “Sorry, I just assumed…”

“You’re not the first.”

Clark leans back against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest.

“I know it’s a little weird. We’ve been friends for years, and…yeah, we hook up, sometimes. But Julian…”

Clark sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“I think he has a lot of stuff he needs to work through, you know? He’s a lot more insecure than he lets on. I think sometimes he uses sex as…as a way of trying to get affection and attention, you know? Like…like he thinks that’s what people want from him. It’s probably fucked up that I just go along with it.”

Logan shifts, a little awkwardly.

“I mean…if it’s what he _wants_ , I don’t…it’s probably fine?”

“It just feels like…” Clark’s gazing off into nothing, and Logan’s pretty sure he’s not even talking to _him_ anymore, “It feels like he’s looking for something, when he…like I’m disappointing him by not giving it to him. Whatever it is. I mean I wish I _could_ , but…”

“…you’re not like, in love with him, are you? Because I really don’t think I’m qualified to deal with this.”

Clark laughs a little, moves to start cleaning up after himself.

“No. I’m not. I mean I do _love_ him, obviously, he’s one of my oldest friends. But I’m not like, sitting around pathetically pining over him all the time.”

Logan just watches him put ingredients a way, half-wonders if he should offer to help.

“…you guys are watching out for him, right?”

“Of course,” Logan responds, instantly, “It’s our job.”

“I know, I just…” Clark bites his lip, looks a little nervous, “This whole thing is freaking him out a lot more than he lets on, I think. I’m leaving on tour pretty soon, and I know Dolce’s in Italy right now…he doesn’t really have that many people he’s close to. I’m just really worried about him, you know?”

“We won’t let anything happen to him,” Logan says, “I promise.”

Clark looks at him seriously, but seems to believe him. He doesn’t say anything after that, just washes the knife and cutting board he’d used.

Julian wanders downstairs not much longer, and Logan notices a slight limp as he walks, a dark bruise at his collarbone. He yawns, stretching his arms over his head, and squints over at Clark.

“You cooked?”

Clark pulls the pan off the stove and dumps the contents onto a plate, shoving it in front of Julian.

“There’s spinach in here, and you’re not going to complain about it this time.”

Julian pouts at him a little, but tugs the plate closer, obediently taking a bite of the omelette. Clark looks pleased at that, smiles a little.

“See? Vegetables won’t kill you.”

“Just because I _choose_ not to eat them doesn’t mean I _can’t_.”

Clark rolls his eyes, looks over at Logan, “Honestly, how do you deal with him on a daily basis?”

“I drink,” Logan says flatly, “A lot.”

“You can both rot in hell,” Julian says through a mouthful of egg.

Clark and Logan both laugh a little, even as Julian scowls.

“Alright, I gotta go,” Clark says, reaching over to ruffle Julian’s hair, “Have fun with your dad, J.”

He sweeps out, nods politely at Logan as he leaves.

“Surprised you didn’t try to frisk him when he showed up last night,” Julian says, shoveling the last few bites of his omelette into his mouth.

“He’s on Carmen’s pre-approved people list,” Logan says, pouring Julian his morning cup of coffee. He lets Julian add his own sugar, this time. He’s already had breakfast made for him, he can’t have _everything_ do for him.

“There’s a list?” Julian frowns at him, pours creamer into his mug, “Who’s on it?”

“Clark, Carmen, your parents,” Logan ticks the names off on his fingers, “Cameron Pike? Sebastian something—“

“So basically just my parents, my manager, and people I fuck,” Julian cuts him off, “Good to know they trust my judgement, at least.”

“Should they not? If I _should_ be checking any of them…”

“None of them are trying to kill me. I promise.”

“Do you have _any_ idea who—“

“Of course not,” Julian scoffs, sipping his coffee, “I’d tell someone if I knew who it was. I’m not _that_ much of a masochist. I don’t actually _enjoy_ being followed around by huge dudes in suits all the time, you know.”

“Really?” Logan raises an eyebrow, “Following spoiled brats around is exactly my idea of a good time.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Julian snatches his bag off the counter and saunters out, nose held high in the air.

Logan’s smirking a little as he follows him, glad at finally getting the upper hand. He locks up behind them, slides into the car after Julian.

“Your father’s office?” Lionel asks, looking through the mirror at Julian.

Julian looks a little annoyed, “You have the schedule. You know _exactly_ where we’re going.”

He flips open his binder, leans over the script and reads. Lionel looks a little embarrassed; he clears his throat and pulls out of the driveway. Logan almost feels bad for him, but Julian hadn’t been wrong — Logan always checks the schedule before showing up, the driver _definitely_ should know where they’re going.

Logan scrolls through a news feed, rolls his eyes at the amount of celebrity gossip that pops up. There’s a new rumor that Julian’s in a secret relationship with Kendall Jenner; it must be _very_ secret, Logan thinks, he hasn’t so much as heard Julian say her name the whole time he’s been working for him.

He scrolls past the Hollywood crap, checks out the American Politics link. He sees his father’s name, hesitates over the article.

_Senator John Wright confirms Presidential bid._

Logan scoffs, scrolls past the article.

“What are you so pissy about?”

He looks up, sees Julian glancing his way.

“…nothing. Dumb news shit. Politics, and stuff.”

Julian rolls his eyes, “Who did something awful this time?”

“Um…some Senator in New York,” Logan says, unable to think up a lie quickly enough, “Running for President. He seems like kind of a dick.”

“Most politicians are dicks,” Julian turns back to his script, flips a page. He seems bored with the conversation already, and Logan’s a little grateful. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold onto this conversation, how much he can give away before Julian starts asking questions.

Julian’s quiet the rest of the drive, and Logan’s careful not to have any audible reaction as he scrolls through the article.

> _Senator John Wright II confirms his intention to run for President next year. It has long been suspected that Senator Wright had plans to challenge the sitting President, but Wright has been consistently vague when questioned. His upcoming campaign was confirmed at an intimate gathering held at his New York home with wife Michelle Wright, a former model…_

Logan closes out of the article. He can’t bear reading about Michelle, knows she’s the _one person_ he actually regrets leaving. He hopes she’s doing well, that his father is actually making an effort to be a good husband to her.

He shakes off the thoughts as they pull up to the studio, forces himself back into work mode.

Julian actually lets him exit the car first, doesn’t bitch as Logan leads him through the door. They walk through the hall, and Logan’s a little surprised to see the building a little more crowded than last time.

“I thought it was just you and Travis today?”

“What? No, we have a reading,” Julian frowns at him, “There’s like thirty people here. Which I’m sure means _you_ have to stay.”

“I’ll try not to annoy you too much.”

Julian rolls his eyes, pushes his way into a room. His father’s already there, talking to an actor Logan recognizes from one of the many action movies Derek had dragged him to over the years. Julian slides into a seat behind him, pulls his binder out.

The next few hours are, to be honest, a little painful to watch.

Logan’s not entirely sure how a script reading is supposed to work. But he’s pretty sure that Julian, as the producer, is supposed to have the final say in major decisions. But any time he speaks up, tells one of the actors how he wants a scene to play out, Travis speaks over him.

“I’m not sure _insecurity_ is the angle we’re going for,” Travis says at one point, cutting Julian off, “I think the scene would be coming more from a place of anger, of misplaced rage.”

By the end of the reading, Julian’s gone mostly silent. He’d started off fairly enthusiastic, communicating his ideas for character motivations and emotions. Now he’s just quietly listening to the actors read off their lines, making small notes in the margins of his own script.

“Alright everyone, I think that’s good for today,” Travis closes his own script, smiles at the collection of actors, “We’ll see you next week, thank you very much.”

Julian looks visibly irritated, but just nods at at the group as they walk out.

“What the hell, dad?” He says, once the room is emptied, “I _told_ you I want Jonah to be a more sympathetic character.”

“Jonah’s written as an immature bully,” Travis says, “Audiences want an antagonist.”

“He can be an antagonist and still be _real_ ,” Julian argues, “He’s insecure. He lashes out at other people because he doesn’t like _himself_.”

“Or he’s just an asshole,” Travis looks mildly amused, “Honestly, Julian, you’re the one who approved the script.”

“Jesus, dad, did you read the source material? There’s parts of the book that didn’t make sense explicitly written in the script, but he’s _clearly_ meant to be misunderstood.”

Travis just stands, gathering his things, “People are over _misunderstood_ , Julian. It’s been done. Having Jonah as the villain to Dylan’s hero will sell. Trust me.”

He pats Julian on the shoulder as he leaves, a gesture that comes off more condescending than comforting. Julian just sighs and leans forward, rubbing at his temple.

Logan wants to say something, but he keeps his mouth shut, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Go ahead,” Julian mumbles, face still buried in his hands.

“…excuse me?”

“Talk,” Julian continues, “You always have _thoughts_ about things, so go ahead.”

Logan hesitates for a minute, tries to gather his thoughts.

“…why’d you pick your dad?”

Julian finally looks up, a frown on his face, “Excuse me?”

“For your movie. It seems like you want a bigger say over what’s going on, and your dad seems as much of a control freak as you. So why’d you pick him to direct?”

Julian’s quiet for a moment, and Logan’s beginning to think he won’t answer when he finally speaks, quietly.

“He’s good at what he does,” he says, “The best, really. I wanted this movie to be good. I wanted to show people I could do it. I thought…if I had him with me, I thought…”

He pauses, staring down at his hands.

“I thought he’d let me make something great. I thought he’d tell me what worked and what didn’t. That he’d help me figure it out.”

“But instead he’s steam-rolling you.”

“…he knows what he’s talking about. He’s been making movies since before I was born. He just wants to help.”

“Your ideas are _great_ , Julian. You know that right?”

“His are better.”

“Maybe for his own movie, sure. But this is supposed to be _yours_. Does it feel like yours?”

“…no. Not anymore,” Julian stares down at his script, “It’s based on a book, you know. The script.”

“Yeah. I thought it sounded kinda familiar. I think I was supposed to read it in high school. Not sure I ever did.”

“It’s good,” Julian says, “The book. I read it when I was a teenager and I just…it was really good.”

“…Jonah sounds like a good guy. I mean, a dick, kinda. But I see what you mean by misunderstood.”

“Yeah.”

Julian stares down at his binder for a moment, then abruptly slams it shut, rising to his feet.

“It’s late,” he says, shortly, “I have to go get ready for that thing.”

He shoves the binder into his bag, strides past Logan and out of the room. Logan hurries after him, shoes squeaking against the tile floor.

“Hey,” he says, “Look, maybe if you just talk to him…”

“We’re not talking about this anymore.”

Logan just sighs and continues to follow. He still feels like Julian’s a bit of an enigma, like he keeps making a little bit of progress only to be knocked back down.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Lionel’s once again waiting outside, and Logan half-wonders if he spent the whole day waiting, flipping through those magazines in the parking lot.

“Home,” Julian barks as he slides in, tossing his bag to the ground.

Lionel clears his throat, puts the car in drive.

“I picked up some dinner, Mr. Larson,” he says, holding up a wrapped sandwich, “I thought you might be hungry.”

Julian looks up, eyes narrowed, “I’m on a low-carb diet, Lionel. I can’t eat _bread_.”

Lionel drops the sandwich, looking a little irritated. Logan almost feels bad for him — the guy strikes him as a little socially awkward, and Logan’s not sure if he’s realized that Julian’s like this with _everyone_.

Julian leans against the window, still looking a little pissed off.

“Everyone’s coming tonight, right?” He asks, without looking Logan’s way, “You and Alex and Nicky and Liam?”

“Yeah,” Logan nods, “Carmen had everyone on the schedule.”

“Cool,” Julian pulls his phone out, firing off a few texts in quick succession.

Logan just leans back, enjoys the silence for the next half hour. He can hear Julian tapping at his phone, hears Lionel drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel.

Alex’s car is parked outside the house when they get in, along with another car Logan assumes belongs to one of the other guards. The door’s unlocked, and Logan hears Alex’s voice when they walk inside. Julian veers upstairs, mumbling something about getting ready, and Logan heads into the next room.

“Wright, hey!” Alex grins at him, “Nicky, Liam, this is Logan. Logan, Nicky and Liam.”

A woman beside Alex smiles and waves. She’s quite pretty, Logan notes, curly black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s also quite tall, probably matches Julian in height. The man beside her — Liam, he assumes — is slightly shorter than her, but very muscular. He’s incredibly attractive as well, and Logan’s starting to wonder if Julian had hired his guards based partly on looks.

“‘sup, man?” Liam nods at him, leaning lazily against the counter.

“Alright, now that everybody’s here,” Alex says, clapping his hands together, “Tonight shouldn’t be _too_ bad, we’re all here mostly because of the size of the venue and the fact that there’s gonna be crowds of people waiting around outside. Last time there was an opening like this we had a problem with an overzealous paparazzo trying to grab at him.”

“He was trying to _grope_ him, not kill him,” Liam says, looking mildly amused.

“Still,” Alex rolls his eyes, “We need to get him into the club without anyone touching him. Once he’s in we should be okay, we’ll just need to make sure at least one of us has eyes on him at all times.”

“Got it,” Nicky tosses her hair over her shoulder, “No pervs, no stalkers. Watch him grind on people on the dance floor and sneak into the bathroom for a quickie.”

Alex looks a little pained, and Liam laughs.

“I’ll watch,” he says, smirking, “I don’t mind.”

“Could we _try_ to cut back on the objectifying?” Alex pleads, “He _is_ our boss.”

“Yeah. Our hot, slutty boss.”

Alex turns to Logan, gives him a long-suffering look.

“I swear they’re both professionals,” he says, “Disgusting, terrible people. But professionals.”

“Right,” Logan drawls, looking over at Liam, still leaning against the counter.

Something about the man just rubs Logan the wrong way. Logan’s sure he’s not a bad guy, knows he must’ve gotten through the same background checks and interviews as Logan. Still though, the blasé way he’s holding himself and the way he absolutely _leers_ at Julian when he walks in makes Logan slightly uncomfortable.

When Logan turns, though, he’s not sure he can blame him. Julian’s clad in a pair of _very_ snug leather pants tucked into low black boots. Logan tries not to stare at the way the fabric hugs his ass, but it’s honestly almost _obscene_. His shirt — some loudly patterned gold-and-red thing — is unbuttoned halfway down his chest. On most people, the whole thing would look ridiculous. Somehow though, Julian manages to make it work. 

“Is there any tequila in this place?” Julian asks, opening a few cabinets and huffing when he only finds plates.

“Hang on,” Liam turns around, opens a door and disappears for a moment. When he steps back out, he has a bottle of Don Julio in his hand, and holds it out for Julian.

Julian uncaps the bottle, holds it up to his lips, and takes a swig, grimacing a little as he sets it back down.

“Alright, let’s do this thing.”

Nicky and Alex move first, headed to the door ahead of Julian. Liam trails after him, eyes definitely trained on Julian’s ass. Logan rolls his eyes, turns to follow them all.

The trip to the club takes nearly an hour. Liam and Nicky sit close together, snickering about something on Nicky’s phone. Alex smiles down at his own phone, and Logan sees pictures of what he assumes are his kids flashing across the screen. Every so often, he’ll angle his phone to Logan. He pretends to be fascinated by the pictures, acts like he cares about a picture of a toddler covered in spaghetti. Julian’s looking through what appears to be his Twitter feed, responding to something every once in a while.

When they do finally pull up to the club, the crowd is absolutely insane. There’s a mob of people around the entrance, a dozen or so bouncers trying to hold everyone back. A herd of paparazzi turns toward the approaching car, cameras raised and at the ready.

Alex tenses a little looking at the crowd, and even Nicky and Liam look solemn, straightening their jackets.

“Alright, I want Nicky and Liam in front,” Alex says, authoritatively, “Julian in the middle. Logan and I will bring up the rear. Got it?”

They all nod, and Liam and Nicky slip out of the car, clearing enough space for the rest to get out.

When Julian steps outside, the crowd grows louder, and the flashing of the cameras is almost blinding. Logan and Alex press up behind him, and they walk towards the doors as a single unit. Liam has to push a way a few photographers, and Nicky shoves away a rather exuberant fan screaming Julian’s name.

The inside of the club isn’t much better. The place is absolutely _packed_ , and the lights are dim enough that it’s difficult to make out faces.

Logan doesn’t like this at _all_.

Keeping track of Julian in this place is a goddamn nightmare. He doesn’t make it easy for them, either,keeps flitting between the bar and different groups of people, seems to know _everyone_ in this place.

“Am I allowed to dance?” Julian asks, at one point, sidling up to Logan and Alex, “Or is that too _dangerous_?”

Alex glances over at the floor, packed with writhing bodies and incredibly under-lit.

“I’ll take him,” Liam slides up behind him, places a hand on Julian’s arm, “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

Julian glances back at him, seems to give him a slight once-over. He turns, pulling Liam with him into the mass of dancers.

“Is this allowed?” Logan practically has to yell to be heard over the music.

Alex shrugs, “Pretty sure nobody cares as long as we keep him safe. If it interferes with that I’ll say something to Carmen. But honestly, I’d rather this happen than lose him in that crowd, y’know?”

“He just seems kind of unprofessional.”

“Yeah. That’s probably why he’s on an events-only schedule.”

Logan looks back towards the crowd. He can’t see Julian or Liam; Nicki, however, is standing across the way, and gives Logan a thumbs-up when she meets his eyes, indicating that she has eyes on them.

“She’s cool,” Alex tells him, “Apparently Julian personally hired her because he thought she was hot. But she’s very devoted to her wife, so…”

Logan snorts, turns back to scan the crowd.

He recognizes a few of the celebrities milling about. A few singers, some actors, a handful of people Logan’s _fairly sure_ he recognizes from Disney Channel shows. He’s pretty sure some of them are under twenty-one, wonders if Julian’s been coming to these parties since before he could legally drink.

The club just gets more crowded as the night goes on, the music steadily louder.

Eventually, Liam pulls Julian back out of the crowd, heads back their way.

“Fuck these suits,” he gasps, sliding off his jacket and fanning himself. He’s a little pink, definitely sweating through his clothes.

Julian’s stumbling a little more than he had been when they left. He whines a little, tugs at Liam’s arm.

“You said we could _dance_ ,” he complains, leaning against him, “We’re not _dancing_.”

“I gotta tap out, it’s way too hot out there. Wright, go dance with him.”

“What?” Logan’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Alex, a little frantic.

“Come _on_ , Logan,” Julian latches onto his arm, instead, “Dance with me.”

Logan doesn’t seem to have a _choice,_ here, is already being dragged out onto the dance floor with Julian’s hand wrapped around his wrist.

“I don’t really know if this is a good idea…”

Julian spins around, presses a finger against Logan’s lips.

“Just _dance_ with me, Logan. Have some _fun_ for once.”

He winds his arms around Logan’s shoulders, starts swaying to the beat. There’s barely any room to actually _dance_ , bodies pressed against them from every angle. Julian doesn’t seem to notice Logan’s lack of actual movement, gets into the music regardless.

Logan lets him dance for a while, holds onto him only to ensure Julian doesn’t get dragged away by one of the many handsy dancers around them.

After a few songs, Julian’s head droops onto Logan’s shoulder, and his movements lessen considerably.

“Hey,” Logan grips his arms, shakes him a little, “You’re kind of crazy drunk right now. Let’s get you home, okay?”

He pushes Julian back, tries to assess how alert he is.

Julian’s swaying a little, where he stands. His eyes are glazed over, his face flushed.

“Do you think I’m attractive, Logan?”

Logan sighs, lays a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I think you’re _drunk_. We should get you out of here. Come on.”

He tugs, but Julian pulls back.

“I asked you a question.”

“Of course you’re attractive. Every magazine in the world says you are, how much validation do you really need?”

“I didn’t ask the _world_. I asked _you,_ ” Julian stumbles forward, rests a hand on Logan’s chest, “Do _you_ think I’m attractive?”

Logan wraps long fingers around Julian’s wrist, keeps it from sliding lower.

“Yes, Julian. I think you’re attractive,” he says, flatly, “Now can we leave?”

“Do you think about me?” Julian’s lips curve into a small, mischievous smirk, “When you touch yourself?”

“This isn’t appropriate, Mr. Larson.”

“Oh, so we’re back to _Mr. Larson_ now? I was just _Julian_ a second ago,” Julian twists his arm, twines his fingers through Logan’s, “We were making so much _progress_.”

“You’re my boss.”

Julian hums, sways a little closer.

“Isn’t that a _super_ hot fantasy though? Sleeping with the boss? Getting thrown over a desk and fucked till you scream?”

Logan’s eyes darken. He rips his hand from Julian’s, slides it up his arm and grips the back of his neck, a little harder than necessary.

“Trust me, _princess_ ,” he spits, “I wouldn’t be the one getting thrown over desks in this scenario.”

Julian whines low in his throat, lets his body sink against Logan’s.

“There’s a table right over there,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to mouth at Logan’s neck, “If you feel like making me scream…”

Logan closes his eyes. Takes a deep, steadying breath. Counts to three.

“You’re _drunk_ ,” he says again, resolutely.

“‘m not,” Julian mumbles, leaning against Logan’s chest, “‘m _high_. It’s so much _better_.”

Logan freezes, “Julian, what did you take?”

“Pill,” Julian sags against him a little more, “Makes my head all bubbly. I like it.”

“Shit, Julian, where did you _get_ it?”

Julian tile his chin up, giggles a little, “Can’t tell. It’s a secret.”

He brings his finger to his lips, makes a drawn out shushing sound, and bursts into giggles again.

“We’re getting you out of here _now_.”

Logan wraps an arm around Julian’s torso, heaves him out of the crowd. Julian’s leaning nearly his full weight against Logan, stumbling clumsily along.

“You gonna take me home?” He asks, head resting against Logan’s shoulder, “We gonna have fun?”

Logan ignores him. He tracks Alex down, gestures at him that they need to get out, now. Alex signals the other two, and they meet him at the door.

“He’s high off his ass, apparently,” Logan says quickly, “We need to get him out of here.”

Alex curses, whips his phone out and fires off a text to Lionel. He fishes a pair of sunglasses out of his jacket pocket, slides them onto Julian’s face.

“Okay. Okay Julian listen to me for a second okay? For the next thirty seconds, I need you to act like you’re totally sober, okay? Can you do that?”

Julian nods, head lolling to the side, “I can _act_. I’m good at acting.”

Alex nods, glances down at his phone and straightens Julian’s shirt for him.

“Alright, everyone close, okay? Try to keep him out of view of the cameras.”

They all press in close, and Alex pushes the doors open.

There’s another roar of recognition, more blinding camera flashes. Logan still has an arm at Julian’s waist — he doesn’t entirely trust the man to not topple over as they walk out. Lionel pulls the car up just as they reach the curb, and Alex opens the door and ushers Julian in.

It runs surprisingly smoothly; the other three don’t seem completely unused to this, know exactly how to get Julian into the car without him falling over.

Alex kneels on the floor in front of Julian as soon as the door’s closed, takes his face in his hands.

“Julian, I need you to look at me, okay?” He shakes him a little, tries to get Julian to focus, “Can you tell me what you took?”

“Happy pills,” Julian says, blearily, “Think I need more, though. I’m dizzy. And hot, why is it so hot?”

He yanks at his shirt, tries to pull it off and just winds up tangled in his own sleeves.

“Lionel?” Alex turns over his shoulder, “A/C, please?”

Cool air comes blasting through the vents, and Nicky reaches into a bag, pulls out a large bottle of Gatorade.

“Here,” she shoves it at Alex, “Make him drink this, it’ll help.”

“We taking him to the hospital?” Logan asks, and all three look up at him with wide eyes.

“God, no,” Liam says, “Do you have any idea how that would _look_? Him getting taken to the hospital for illegal drugs?”

“What if he overdosed? What if they were _laced_?”

“Julian makes bad decisions,” Nicky tells him, sounding way too knowledgable about all this, “But he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t take drugs from someone he didn’t trust.”

“I think it was ecstasy,” Alex says, pulling away from Julian, “As long as he didn’t take too much, he’ll be okay by morning. We just need to make sure he drinks water and get him in bed as soon as we can.”

“Don’t want bed,” Julian whines, “I wanna have _fun_.”

“You had fun,” Alex says a little sternly, “Now it’s time for you to sleep."

“Not a _child_ ,” Julian leans back, falls against Liam’s shoulder a little, “You’re not my _dad_.”

“Thank god,” Alex mumbles. Despite his obvious irritation, he keeps a close eye on Julian on the ride home. He makes him sip the Gatorade every few minutes, doesn’t relent until the bottle’s mostly empty.

“Someone’s gonna have to stay with him, just in case,” he says, as they pull into the driveway, “I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay, but I don’t want anyone getting fired because of this.”

“I can stay with him,” Liam offers, “I mean, Wright’s had him the last few days and you’ve got him in the morning. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll help lock up,” Nicky opens the door, helps him maneuver Julian out.

Logan glances over at Alex, who just nods at him.

“He’ll be fine, I promise,” he says, “They know what they’re doing. They’ve both worked for celebrities before. Unfortunately drugs kind of come with the territory, sometimes.”

“If you’re sure,” Logan watches the trio make their way inside, sees how heavily Julian’s leaning against Liam.

“Positive,” Alex claps him on the back, “Go home, alright? You got two days off, try to get some actual sleep. I promise he’ll still be alive when you come back.”

Logan just sighs and heads back to his car.

He knows, logically, that everything’s going to be fine. He knows celebrities take party drugs all the time, knows this likely isn’t the first time Julian’s gotten high at a club.

But the whole situation is just _strange_ to him.

He wants to know where Julian got a hold of the drugs, how he managed to get his hands on pills with all of them watching him so closely. He definitely hadn’t brought them with him — his pants were so tight he’d made Liam hold his wallet for him, there’d been nowhere on his body for him to hide any drugs.

It’s probably none of his business, though. Julian’s in his own home now, safe and watched over by people hired to protect him. Logan’s not a _huge_ fan of him using drugs, knows it’s significantly more difficult to watch over someone with lowered inhibitions and sense of rationality.

But Logan just sighs, pushes his car into drive and backs out of the driveway.

Julian’s _fine_ , he tells himself. He’s fine, and Logan gets to spend the next two days doing anything he wants, with no obligation to babysit celebrities.

He can’t fucking wait.


	6. let me occupy your mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for minor sexual content (ie, very brief masturbation) in this one

Having two days off _sounds_ like an absolute dream, in theory.

In practice, though, it turns out Logan’s not a big fan.

Belatedly, he realizes he probably should have made some sort of plan for how to spend his weekend.

He still doesn’t really know anybody in Los Angeles outside of work, doesn’t really have any strong desire to go out and explore the city alone. Derek had talked him into downloading a dating app, not too long ago, but Logan found the whole thing remarkably tacky; every other profile consisted of nothing but dick pics, and anyone he  _did_ match with immediately opened with something crude.

Logan has a  _little_ more class than that.

For lack of anything better to do, he vows to spend his weekend catching up on sleep and lazing around his apartment. It might be nice, he thinks, to have absolutely nothing on his schedule for two full days.

Naturally, though, he finds himself waking up far earlier than he anticipated, his body obviously used to Julian’s crazy schedule. He tries to stay in bed for as long as possible, but his stomach growls angrily at him, and he’s forced to push himself out of bed in search of food.

His kitchen is pathetically empty of food, nothing but a damp box of leftovers in his fridge. He picks it up, sniffs at it and immediately throws it in the trash. There’s a single can of black beans in a cupboard, a lone potato resting in his pantry that, at second glance, appears to be growing something dark and fuzzy on one side. Logan sighs, heads to his coffeemaker so he can at least have _something_ in his system.

The can of coffee grounds feels light in his hands, and he sends a quick prayer to the universe as he opens it. There’s barely any left — he could dump the rest in and still barely manage half a cup. He sighs, starts the cup anyway, and plods back to his bedroom to get changed. As much as he’d like to do absolutely nothing today, it looks like he’s going to have to at _least_ make a trip out to the grocery store.

He pulls on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt; a little more casual than he usually prefers to dress, but kind of a relief after living in suits for so long. Doesn’t bother gelling his hair back, just wets it a little and combs it back from his face.

The coffee is just as weak as he anticipated, but he downs it anyway, drops the mug in the sink as he heads out. It’s insanely sunny out, as normal, and Logan kind of misses the gray of the East Coast. He’s starting to understand Julian’s constant wearing of sunglasses.

He climbs into his car, fiddles with the radio with one hand while he pulls up directions to the nearest grocery store on his phone. There’s a Whole Foods about two blocks away — he’d just gotten his paycheck deposited in his account, finally has a bank account that doesn’t make him mildly nervous to look at.

The parking lot is refreshingly empty, and Logan figures most people aren’t very motivated to go grocery shopping at ten in the morning on a Saturday. He heads in, grabs a basket and makes his way down the aisles.

He’s gotten remarkably efficient at this over the past few years, remembers a time where all his groceries were delivered by hired help. It had been a little weird, setting foot in a grocery store for the first time himself, but he’s started to learn his way around this kind of thing. 

He’s still never bothered learning to cook, relies mostly on frozen foods and take out. He heads to the freezer aisle, piles a selection of breakfast burritos, frozen pizzas, and bagged foods into the cart. Grabs a couple boxes of cereal and some milk, a few cans of soup. A month’s worth of coffee gets tossed in next, and Logan figures he might as well add _something_ fresh to his diet, picks up a few bagged salads as well.

The total is higher than he expected, and Logan sighs as he hands over his credit card. He _hates_ having to pay attention to his expenses, misses the days he could buy anything that caught his eye without a care in the world.

 _I told you you’d regret this,_ a voice that sounds remarkably like John echoes in his head, _You need my money_ , _Logan. What actually made you think you could handle being on your own?_

Logan ignores that voice, takes his bags from the cashier and heads back to his car. His phone rings just as he opens his door, and he pulls it from his pocket, frowns down at the unfamiliar number.

“...hello?”

_“Hi, I’m looking for a John Logan Wright uh…the Third?”_

“That’s me,” Logan frowns, not recognizing the voice, “Who is this?”

_“Good morning Mr. Wright, this is Jonathan, I’m from Sherman & Sons home delivery?”_

Logan’s still confused, furrows his brow for a moment before he remembers.

The piano.

He can't  _believe_ he forgot - he'd only received the email confirming the delivery date a few days ago, had been so relieved to find it scheduled for his day off so he didn't have to worry about switching shifts around. 

“Oh,” he says quickly, “Right. Um, I’m sorry, are you there already?”

_“Yes sir, we’re outside your building, we didn’t get an answer at the door.”_

“Fuck,” Logan starts the car, pulls out of the parking lot as quickly as he can, “I mean -- shit, sorry, I forgot the delivery was today. I swear I’m only like, five minutes away, I'm on my way back now.”

_“We’re only authorized to wait fifteen minutes before moving on to the next delivery, sir.”_

“I’ll be there,” Logan says quickly, pressing down on the gas pedal, “Don't go anywhere, I’ll be there.”

He throws his phone to the side, races home as quickly as he can. Twelve minutes later he’s pulling into the parking lot, haphazardly parking in his spot. He grabs his grocery bags, jogs over to the truck idling by the curb.

“Hey,” he blurts out, “Hey I’m Logan Wright. Sorry, I guess I forgot to write down the delivery date.”

The man looks unimpressed, shoves a clipboard into Logan’s hands, “Just sign here, sir.”

Logan scrawls his signature, gives the man directions to the elevator in the building. He leaves his apartment door unlocked for them, starts to put away his groceries.

“That corner, please,” he calls out, when two men walk in with the upright piano he’d ordered when he’d moved in. His fingers are _itching_ to touch the keys, despite the piano being a serious downgrade from the Steinway he’d had in New York.

“This good, Mr. Wright?” The same man with the clipboard says, once they’ve gotten the piano into place.

“Yeah. Perfect. Thanks.”

The door is barely closed behind them before Logan’s sliding onto the bench, gingerly placing his hands on the keys.

He hasn’t touched a piano since that day in the recording studio with Julian, hasn’t actually owned one in _years_. Still, his hands move on their own accord, and he’s six measures into Chopin’s _Nocturne in E-Flat_ before he even realizes what he’s playing. His eyes drift closed, mind going blessedly blank as the music takes over.

He plays his way through a half-dozen of his favorite pieces, ignores the clumsy mistakes he makes as he falls back into rhythm. It’s honestly exhilarating, being able to play freely again. He catches himself smiling a little as his hands dance across the keys, pauses to run a hand along the polished ivory.

His fingers tap out a melody he can’t quite place, and he goes with it, lets his hands play the music for him.

He’s halfway through the song before he realizes what it is — it’s _Julian’s_ song, the piece Logan had helped him with. He groans, pulls back from the keyboard.

Figures, Julian Larson would haunt him even on his day off.

Logan stands up, scoops his phone up of the kitchen counter.

“ _Dude!”_ Derek yells, the second he picks up, “ _I’ve been texting you_ all week _, what the fuck?”_

“Sorry,” Logan winces a little, remembers the texts he’d glanced at and quickly forgotten about as he chased Julian all over the city, “It’s been kinda crazy.”

Derek makes a noise of sympathy, “ _He still that bad?”_

“I don’t know,” Logan perches on the arm of his sofa, “He’s…he’s okay, I guess? Just the whole cliche Hollywood life, you know? He sleeps around a lot. He got high at a party last night. His dad’s kind of a dick.”

“ _Well at least you know how to deal with asshole fathers_.”

“Hilarious, D.”

“ _I’m just saying. You said he got high last night? Is that like, safe? Remember when my college roommate snorted like three lines of coke and disappeared for twelve hours? When they found him naked in the fountain singing Les Mis at the top of his lungs? Probably not a safe thing for someone with a crazy stalker.”_

“It wasn’t that bad, thankfully,” Logan laughs a little, remembers the Snapchats Derek had sent him that night, “We think it was ecstasy. He just got really…handsy?”

“ _Dude,_ ” Derek snorts, _“Did Julian Larson grope you?”_

“Tried.”

“ _What, you turned him down?”_ Derek sounds a little incredulous, “ _Isn’t he like, exactly your type?”_

“He is not my _type_ ,” Logan argues, “I don’t have a _type_.”

“ _Uh huh_ ,” Derek drawls, “ _Dude, even_ I _can admit he’s ridiculously attractive_.”

“Why does _everybody_ think he’s so hot?”

“ _Maybe because he kinda is? Like I get that he’s annoying, but there’s no way you’re that blind.”_

“Fine,” Logan rolls his eyes, “He’s hot. But it’s not…I’m trying to be professional here, you know? I mean, I’m probably gonna be stuck in this career for a while. Plus if I'm watching celebrities instead of politicians, I'll never run the risk of accidentally bumping into my dad.”

_“Or you could, I don’t know, talk to him, maybe?”_

“I will fucking hang up on you right now, don’t test me.”

“ _Fine, fine,_ ” Derek sighs, “ _I just…I don’t know. Never pictured you as a celebrity bodyguard, you know?_ ”

“Me either,” Logan looks around his apartment, boxes still strewn around the place, “I’m kinda good at it, though? I mean you don’t really need to be a people person, you just have to make sure no crazies pull out a gun, or anything. He barely talks, most of the time. Though he's a fucking annoying when he does.”

“ _That makes sense. I guess you get to beat people up for a living, now_. _You were always good at that._ ”

Logan chooses to ignore that comment.

“It’s more like…making sure nobody tries to get too handsy at dance clubs and being a human barrier between him and paparazzi. They're insane with those cameras, I don't know how he's dealt with it his whole life.”

“ _Oh shit dude speaking of that, have you seen Perez Hilton today?_ ”

“Yeah. Spend all my time checking that kind of shit out.”

“ _Well you’re on it._ ”

“I’m…what?” Logan reaches for his laptop, balances it in his lap and navigates to the site.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Derek laughs, _“You’re Julian Larson’s hottest new bodyguard. He drew little hearts around your face and everything.”_

“Fucking hell,” Logan groans, wincing as he pulls up the picture, “God, did he really have to trace the outline of my dick in those pants?”

 _“He also speculated about which one of you is secretly boning the boss,”_ Derek adds, “ _Most commenters are betting on that dude in the back.”_

“Liam,” Logan tells him, “He might be, to be perfectly honest. He definitely acts a little more…familiar, around him.”

“ _Ooh, the Logan Wright tone of disapproval. I almost forgot what that sounded like_.”

“Shut up, you asshole.”

Derek just laughs, and soon launches into a tirade about his own job, something about his boss having terrible time management skills.

They trade work horror stories for a while, catch up on their lives.

By the time they hang up, Logan feels more relaxed than he has in months. He misses Derek, misses having someone to actually _talk_ to about things. Derek had idly brought up the idea of visiting, mentioned that he had a ton of vacation time saved up. Logan’s not holding out for that, though — Derek’s a bit of a workaholic, and he knows he wouldn’t willingly leave for too long in fear that it might derail his very detailed promotion timeline.

He sighs, sinks down into the couch cushions and pulls his laptop back into his lap. The Perez Hilton article is still open. Julian’s name is underlined, a hyperlink, and Logan clicks it out of curiosity. There’s _pages_ of articles about him, trashy tabloid crap that makes Logan grimace. Pictures of Julian hanging off of different beautiful men and women, Julian stumbling out of clubs clearly drunk, a picture of Julian walking out of…a rehab facility?

Logan clicks on the article, pulls up a picture of a younger-looking Julian holding a hand over his face, obviously trying to block himself from view. He skims the article, reads a rather crude description of an alleged drug problem — cocaine, Perez speculates.

The article is so poorly written Logan can’t get through it, and he pulls up a new window, finds himself typing Julian’s name into the search bar.

He spends _hours_ reading years of articles about Julian. He’s not sure why he does it — boredom, maybe, perhaps it’s just _research_ for his job. Julian’s been the subject of all kinds of rumors over the years. Speculations on his sexuality were apparently swimming around when he was all of _fourteen years old_ , didn’t settle until Julian came out as bisexual at seventeen, after a very public tryst with another male actor. The rumors of a drug addiction seemed to pop up around the same time, with dozens of pictures pointing out Julian’s blown-out pupils or flushed cheeks.

Those articles are usually countered by another blaming exhaustion for his tired look. Apparently, Julian had been hospitalized more than once after collapsing on sets, and Logan's wholly unsurprised to see diagnoses of fatigue, malnutrition, and dehydration. 

There’s literally _hundreds_ of articles speculating on Julian’s love life, and Logan doesn’t bother reading more than the headlines. Clark seems to be a prime guess; there’s tons of clips of Julian getting pulled onstage at Haven concerts, leaning into the microphone to sing with Clark. There’s a few pictures of him leaving bars with Cameron Pike, a few more of another brunet boy Logan doesn’t recognize. A few women sprinkled throughout, as well, though Logan can’t really place any of them.

One of the pictures catches his eyes, though — not because of the woman in it, but the cigarette hanging from between his lips. Logan distinctly remembers Julian snapping at Lionel for smoking the other day, wonders why Julian would have an issue with smoking if _he_ smoked, as well.

He types _Julian Larson smoking_ into the search bar, ignores the image results that pop up and clicks on the first link. It’s an interview, a few years old, and Julian grimaces when the interview asks about his cigarette habit.

> _“Picked it up for a role when I was sixteen,” Julian says, frowning_ , _“I wanted to make it believable, you know? Thought it’d be an easy habit to quit.”_
> 
> _“It wasn’t?” The interviewer asks, despite clearly knowing the answer._
> 
> _“Not at all,” Julian crosses a leg over his other knee, “Total pain in the ass, actually. Can’t stand the smell of them now, though.”_

The interview ends shortly after, and Logan finds his cursor hovering over the suggested videos on the side, clicks a few more out of curiousity. It’s weird, how different Julian is in interviews. He’s smiling a lot, joking around with the people asking him questions. He wonders what happened to _that_ Julian, the easy-going, friendly Julian.

Wonders if it was all an act, all along.

He clicks on one more link, the date listed as just this week. It’s about the incident on set, what the producers claim to be _food poisoning_. That sounds a little fishy to Logan, and he scrolls through the article.

They’re claiming it was a bad batch of food, blaming the catering company for the illness that had quickly spread throughout the cast. The article claims the majority of the affected cast members were simply sent home for the day, that only one person had been hospitalized — Julian’s co-lead, Daniel.

 

> _The illness was traced back to a potato salad served during lunch,_ the article says, _Ironically, Daniel Brennan has been oddly vocal about his love for potatoes, and a member of the crew revealed that Brennan single-handedly devoured half the dish. As of the date of publishing, Brennan is still hospitalized, though expected to make a full recovery_. _His obsession with the food may have saved the rest of the cast. Although seventeen people were affected, all but Brennan were released after only a few hours…_

Logan frowns down at the laptop.

Weird, he thinks, that the contaminated food had been something Daniel was known to love. Logan knows the man has gotten a few threats they think are from Julian’s stalker, knows the person seems to take issue with Julian filming romantic scenes with the man.

Weirder, though, that the whole thing had stemmed from a food Julian refused to eat; Logan remembers how Julian had scrunched his nose at the dish, complained about it containing _pickles_.

It’s almost like someone _knew_ exactly what food would cause Daniel the most damage…

…and what would leave Julian safe.

Logan shakes off the thoughts.

It’s not his job to _investigate_ this thing — he’ll mention something to Carmen, maybe something about the whole thing will help the police out.

The final line of the article catches his attention, too --  _Brennan's co-star Julian Larson is no stranger to on-set accidents, though a spokesperson from the Larson camp confirmed he was unharmed in this incident _\-- and he clicks the hyperlink.

This article is  _old_ , and Logan does some quick math to determine that Julian was around seventeen at the time of publishing.

 

> _ Production of Travis Armstrong's upcoming film  _ Forever Young  _was briefly halted today, after an altercation between a fan and star Julian Larson. The fan, identified to the press only as a seventeen-year-old male, is said to have breeched on-set security and made his way into Larson's trailer. Larson, who was sleeping at the time of the break-in, is said to have awoken to the fan attempting to restrain him. He quickly alerted security, who pulled the fan away and kept him subdued until police responded._
> 
> _"It was f---ing weird," Larson said to a reporter after the incident, "I couldn't even tell you what he looked like, honestly, it happened so fast."_
> 
> _Travis Armstrong confirmed that he and ex-wife Dolce Larson would be seeking a restraining order against the fan._

Carmen had said Julian had issues with crazed fans, before. But this is a little more wild than Logan had anticipated. He'd thought she was referring to overzealous teenage girls screaming marriage proposals, not fans attempting to  _kidnap_ him.

This can't be related to his current issues, though. There's no way.

He tries not to think about it too hard. All he needs to worry about is doing his own job. He doesn't know all the details of Julian's life, has no idea what leads the police are looking into with all this. He closes that article out, tries to ignore the weird feeling he has over all this.

The last thing he clicks is a link to Julian’s Twitter account. He expects it to be fairly sparse, perhaps a few tweets Carmen had drafted promoting his work.

Instead, though, Logan finds that Julian’s a _prolific_ Twitter user.

There’s a dozen composed just last night, time-stamped as they were en route to the club. Logan remembers Julian tapping madly at his phone, but he’d had no idea he was responding to fan messages.

He’s _nice_ , too: responding to inane messages from teenagers with a kindness that takes Logan off-guard.

 

> _I kinda knew my whole life,_ he’d sent, to a girl asking about him coming out as bi, _I got lucky enough to have pretty understanding parents. I hope it works out for you, too. :)_
> 
> _I’m really excited about it!,_ to a young man raving about the same-sex relationship in this movie, _I hope we don’t disappoint you._

The rest are equally as polite, and Logan almost starts to feel bad about ranting about Julian so much. He closes out of the browser window, sets the laptop aside.

As he stretches his arms above his hand and looks at the window, he realizes with a start that it’s darkening outside — he’s been reading articles about Julian for _hours_. He’s a little disgusted with himself, abandons his laptop and phone and heads into the kitchen. The frozen pizzas he’d picked up look pretty good, so he pulls one out, preheats the oven and waits.

There’s a six pack of beers still in the fridge, and he pulls one out, pops it open on the edge of the counter, and takes a long sip. He sighs a little, leans forward on his elbows.

He never could have imagined how _lonely_ he’d be, living in Los Angeles. At work, it doesn’t really affect him much — Julian’s schedule keeps him busy, and he’s usually exhausted enough when he gets home that he doesn’t really mind the quiet.

But now?

Now, the silence is _deafening_.

He misses Michelle’s meaningless chatter, misses Derek butting into his personal business. Misses the housekeepers gossiping with each other. Almost misses his father’s judgy looks.

Weirdly, he thinks as he slides his pizza into the oven, he kind of misses Julian bossing him around.

All of that sounds better than the dull quiet of his apartment.

He sighs, pulls Spotify up on his phone and hits a random playlist. He vaguely recognizes the song, thinks it’s by one of those One Direction guys. It makes the place a _little_ less depressing, adding some kind of noise to the room.

Once his pizza’s done, he grabs a few slices and heads to the couch, flips on the television and finds some mindless sitcom to watch while he eats.

He’s a little ashamed of how quickly he starts to feel tired, how early in the evening it is when he decides to shut off the tv and make his way to bed. That’s one positive of living alone, he supposes — nobody there to judge him if he crawls under the covers by seven.

This time, he actually gets the sleep he’d hoped for.

When he opens his eyes again, he feels _amazing_. He glances at the clock, realizes he’s slept almost twelve full hours. He finally feels refreshed, doesn’t have to convince himself to crawl out of bed this time.

There’s a boxing gym Alex had mentioned, on Logan’s first day of work, and he figures now’s as good a time as any to try it out. Jiu-Jitsu’s his favorite, usually, but hitting things every so often does do wonders for stress relief.

He’s honestly amazed he hasn’t lost control of his anger at work, yet.

It hasn't been too much of a problem these past few years, but it had still cropped up a handful of times when he first started work as a bodyguard. Derek had been right, his profession can get a little violent, at times — he’d had to leave a previous position working security for a Senator in Vermont after getting a little _too_ aggressive with a crowd of constituents. It hadn’t gone into his file, thankfully, hadn’t affected him when he moved across the country to try his hand at working the Hollywood circuit.

At the gym, though, he _definitely_ lets go of some of the aggression he’s been holding back at work. He’s absolutely drenched in sweat by the time he has to stop for breath, is breathing so heavily he almost wants to lay down right there.

He drags himself to his car, instead, just sits for a moment before he works up the energy to actually _drive_. His muscles groan in protest when he moves, and it takes most of his energy to get himself back into his apartment.

The water of the shower feels absolutely heavenly against his skin. He lets it fall over him for a good half-hour, reaches up to massage some of the tension out of his shoulders under the stream. He moans in relief, lets his other hand drift down, long fingers wrapping around his cock.

It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he’s been with anyone. He hardens way too quickly in his hand, closes his eyes and lets his mind wander.

A vague, hazy body appears in his mind. Long, toned legs winding around his waist. Narrow hips, a pert ass. Muscular, tanned arms, sliding up Logan’s body and around his neck. Collarbones littered with mouth-shaped bruises, a long neck leading up to a bright smile, shining brown eyes.

_“You gonna take me home?” Julian whispers, tongue daring out to lick across his lips, “We gonna have fun?”_

“Fuck,” Logan shouts, eyes shooting open as he orgasms into his hand, white ropes of liquid splattering his shower wall.

“Fuck,” he repeats, scrubbing himself clean and turning the shower head to rinse off the wall, “Fuck, what the _fuck_.”

He hadn’t meant to think about Julian — probably would have pictured his most recent ex, if he’d tried for any one specific person.

But no, Julian _fucking_ Larson had to go and pop into his mind.

He tries not to think much of it. He sees Julian _all the time_ , it’s natural that he’d imagine someone he’s used to being around. Maybe it’s because of Derek’s comment yesterday, maybe it’s just that Julian is, _objectively,_ rather attractive.

Once all evidence of his shame is cleared up, he steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around his waist and heads into the bedroom. He lets the towel fall to the floor, pulls on a clean pair of pants and a shirt.

Julian Larson is just a _job_ , he tells himself.

He doesn’t mean anything.

So if, later that night, he dreams of a sparkling pair of sepia eyes, he'll never admit it.


	7. every breath you take, every move you make

Things are blessedly calm, the next few days. Not in terms of Julian’s schedule, of course — the actor still has a constant barrage of appointments and commitments, is signing off _daily_ for even more events. Logan’s heard his meeting with Carmen, knows they have the next _eight months_ of Julian’s life planned out to the minute.

The calm, however, stems partly from the eased security schedule — him and Alex are switching off pretty evenly now, with Liam and Nicky working some of the late night events — and partly from the complete halt of any suspicious activity surrounding Julian. The letters seem to have halted, for now, the food poisoning on set —deemed an unfortunate but unintentional occurrence by the LAPD — the last “accident” around the man. Even Julian seems more relaxed, lately, can even be heard _laughing_ every so often.

Logan should have known the calm couldn’t last forever.

He’s sitting in a quiet corner of the soundstage, book in his hand, when it happens.

 _“You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything,” Robbie says, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, “You can’t say this doesn’t mean_ something _, Aaron.”_

_“I don’t know what I feel, okay?” Aaron runs a hand through his hair, turning to walk away from Robbie. He stands on the opposite end of the room, staring at the wall in front of him._

_“Just tell me what you want. Please.”_

_“I want…I want…” Aaron stumbles over his words. His faces takes on a myriad of expressions as he considers the question, finally settles onto something resembling resolve. He turns, looks Robbie dead in the eye, and moves forward._

Logan’s eyes have left his book. He’s watching the scene with interest. This is the part where Julian and Daniel’s characters finally get together, he thinks. Daniel’s walking to Julian with purpose, has to cross the length of the room to get to him.

A horrible cracking noise rings through the air.

Logan’s up and out of his seat before he can even register _why_. It’s not until he reaches Julian, gets a hand on his shoulder and confirms he’s _safe_ before he lets himself look for the source of the noise.

The ground around them is littered with shattered glass. Daniel is crumpled on the floor a mere ten feet away, screaming in pain — a heavy lighting rig from above them seems to have broken suddenly, is laying across Daniel’s left leg. A dozen people are already rushing to him, pulling the lamp away and examining him.

The sight of his mangled leg is horrifying.

Logan’s suddenly aware of Julian beside him, eyes fixed on the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” he says shakily, “Oh my god, what the _fuck_ , oh my god.”

He’s trembling a little, and Logan grips him by the shoulders.

“Julian, I need you to listen to me, alright? Can you do that?”

The man just looks through him, eyes wide.

“You have glass in your skin, alright?” Logan reaches up, pulls a shard from Julian’s cheek and shows him, ‘I need to take care of this for you, but I need you to relax for me, alright?”

Julian finally nods, draws a shaky breath in and lets Logan examine him.

It isn’t _too_ bad, thankfully. He has glass embedded in his face, his neck, and his arms. But all the shards are small enough to not cause any major bleeding, and his clothing seems to have protected him well enough. Once Logan’s satisfied that he’s removed all the pieces, he fetches his first aid kit. He dabs at Julian’s skin with an alcohol swab, presses bandages over a few still-bleeding spots. He’s a little surprised Julian’s let him do all this without complaint, but a quick glance up proves that Julian isn’t paying attention to him at all.

Instead, he’s watching as a team of paramedics gently lift Daniel onto a stretcher. The man cries out when they jostle his leg, grips the hand of a woman beside him who seems to be trading furious words with the panicked-looking director.

“Hey, Julian?” One of the producers jogs his way, pulling her headset down around her neck, “You’re okay, right? No medical attention needed?”

Julian just nods, still watching Daniel being carted out.

“We are so sorry about that, I assure you we follow all necessary safety protocol.

“Obviously not well enough,” Julian says, voice flat.

The producer offers him an awkward, nervous smile, “You look a little shaken, how about we get you some water?”

She gestures at two waiting assistants, who immediately rush forward and usher Julian away from the wreckage.

Logan looks back towards the destroyed set, sees James hovering over the broken rig. He glances up, catches Logan’s eye and waves him over.

“Look at this,” he says quietly, holding the broken cable up, “What does this look like to you?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, takes it in his hand.

“Like someone put a heavy light on an old string?”

“It’s not old,” James points at the cable, runs a finger down the length of it, “See along here, how there’s no fraying at all? This thing is brand spanking new.”

At Logan’s confused look, he continues.

“My dad was an electrician. I’ve seen cables that broke because they got old or overworked or whatever. This, though, is a perfectly clean cut. I think someone did this on purpose.”

Logan stares at the cable. He kind of sees what James means — the thing looks evenly split, like someone had taken an industrial-strength pair of scissors to the wire. Like someone _wanted_ this to fall. He glances upward, but can’t make our anything past the maze of lights and wiring in the ceiling.

“Just make sure you’re keeping an eye on Larson, alright?” James says, “If this is in any way related to the stuff that’s going on with him, it’s bad. Someone’s obviously gotten it out for him.”

Logan nods, thanks James and hurries off to find Julian.

It takes him a few minutes longer than he’d like, but he finally tracks Julian to his trailer. He’s curled up on the sofa, a lit cigarette held in his hand, when Logan walks in. He raises an eyebrow his direction, but Julian just wordlessly holds up an already-opened white envelope. Logan curses, pulls it out of the other man’s hands and slides the letter out.

 _He doesn’t get to touch you,_ reads the spiky red handwriting, _He doesn’t get to kiss you. You’re_ mine _, Julian._

There’s a polaroid, too — a snapshot of Julian and Daniel talking on set, with Daniel’s face marked out with a thick black X.

“Where was this?” Logan demands, turning the envelope over in his hands.

“Here,” Julian says quietly, taking a long drag from the cigarette, “Slid under the door.”

“And you still came in here alone?” Logan asks, incredulously, “Julian, that’s so dangerous. You’re supposed to _tell_ someone when shit like this happens! Honestly, I’m starting to believe you _want_ —“

He trails off, staring at Julian as he shrinks in on himself. There’s an odd, blank expression on his face, and he stares at the still-smoking cigarette between his fingers.

Logan sighs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Thought you quit that when you were a teenager.”

Julian looks up, “You doing research on me, Wright?”

“Wouldn’t call it research when it’s on your Wikipedia page.”

Julian just scoffs at that, brings the cigarette to his lips again.

“I did quit,” he says finally, “Haven’t smoked in years.”

“Then why are you now?”

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare blankly at the wall. Logan kneels in front of him, pulls the cigarette from his hand and stubs it out on the heel of his shoe.

“Look, how about we get you home,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm, “I don’t think they’ll be filming anything for the foreseeable future.”

Julian doesn’t seem particularly motivated to move on his own accord, but he doesn’t fight Logan when he hims him to his feet, wraps a steadying arm around his shoulders. Logan manages to get him home without much fuss, though he is a little perturbed at how eerily still Julian sits in the car. He glances over at him more than once, sees Lionel do the same through the rearview mirror.

“Would you like me to stay, Julian?” The driver offers, parking in Julian’s driveway, “I could take you to that Italian place you like, or maybe _Fortuna_?”

Julian doesn’t respond, just throws his door open and makes his way to the house.

“He’s had a rough day,” Logan explains, when Lionel frowns at the actor, “I think we’re probably done for today, you should probably just go home.”

Lionel doesn’t look entirely happy with that answer, but Logan just hurries to follow Julian inside, quickly locks the front door behind him. He finds Julian already in the kitchen, rummaging through the bottles in his liquor cabinet until he locates the tequila. He uncaps it, takes a large swig and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before offering the bottle to Logan.

“I’m _working_ ,” Logan says.

Julian doesn’t budge, “We just saw my costar nearly get his leg torn off. Take a goddamn shot.”

Logan can’t really argue with that.

He takes the bottle out of Julian’s hand, wraps his lips around the neck and swallows.

“Never been much of a tequila drinker,” he says, wincing as the liquid burns its way down his throats, “More of a scotch man, myself.”

Julian rolls his eyes, “Why am I not surprised. Fucking cliche.”

“Oh, I’m sorry princess, should I be doing body shots off of Victoria’s Secret models instead?” Tequila is crap, and you know it.”

“I prefer wine, actually,” Julian says, crossing his arms over his chest, “But you can’t exactly get drunk off shots of wine.”

“So that’s your whole goal here? Get trashed?”

“Kind of fucking need it, after today.”

He grabs the bottle back, takes another long sip. Logan sighs.

“Look. You need to relax a little. Go upstairs. Shower. Change. I’ll order us some food, maybe make you a drink that’s not a total cliche.”

Julian almost cracks a smile, sets the bottle down and turns to walk out.

“Hey, be careful when you’re showering, okay?” Logan calls after him, “I’m pretty sure I got all the glass out, but just watch out for more.”

“I’m fairly certain I can manage bathing myself without bleeding out, thanks.”

Julian heads upstairs. Logan grabs the iPad from the counter and enters Julian’s passcode — the year he’d won his first Oscar, naturally. He opens Julian’s Grubhub app, scrolls through the list of his recent orders and selects an Italian place that looks pretty good. He finds something for himself, adds Julian’s last order to the cart. There’s a few appetizers that look pretty good, so he adds those as well. It’s not like Julian’s exactly hurting for money, after all. Once the food is ordered, he turns to Julian’s liquor cabinet. He’s not an expert at mixing drinks, but he knows Julian’s taste runs toward the sickly-sweet and figures that shouldn’t be too difficult to work with.

Julian makes his way back downstairs just as Logan’s stirring his concoction. He wrinkles his nose.

“You said it wouldn’t be a cliche,” he says, “That’s fucking pink.”

“It’s also got more alcohol than you can handle,” Logan says, knowing the implication of a challenge will discourage Julian from arguing. He slides the gland over, watches as Julian takes a tentative sip.

“This is actually really good,” Julian admits, “It’s sweet.”

“My stepmother invented it, actually,” Logan pours his own drink, “By invented, though, I mean she tried to make my dad a Long Island and wound up mixing the completely wrong things. Turned out pretty good, though.”

Julian looks over at him a little curiously, watching as Logan sips at his scotch. He’s expecting Julian to pry into the tiny bit of family information he’d just given out, prepares for the inevitable questioning about his dad and Michelle.

Instead, though, Julian just frowns at him.

“Do you want to change?” He asks, “I don’t know why Carmen insists on making you guys wear those suits. You look absolutely ridiculous.”

Logan _should_ say no, he knows. As hot an uncomfortable as this outfit sometimes gets, it definitely draws a clear line between boss and employee. Being dressed down in front of Julian just opens the door for that line to be blurred more than he’d like.

He doesn’t have time to come up with a reasonable excuse, however, before Julian sets down his drink and takes Logan by the arm.

“Come on. I think I have something that’ll fit you.”

He drags Logan upstairs, pulls him into the bedroom Logan had only seen on camera. It’s a little simpler than Logan might have expected — the bed is massive, but draped in plain white bedding. There’s a large window unobscured by curtains, a single bookshelf littered with worn paperbacks and a messy collection of trophies.

Julian finally releases Logan’s arm to open his closet, rummages through an absolutely absurd amount of clothing.

“You okay with sweatpants?” He asks, “I’d give you jeans, but I wear mine kind of tight…”

“Sweats are fine,” Logan says, skimming the titles of the books on Julian’s shelf. He recognizes some of them, knows Julian had acted in the movie versions of a few. He pulls out a particularly battered copy of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ , is shocked to see a personalized message from JK Rowling on the title page.

“Here you go,” he hears suddenly, very close by. Julian’s standing just inches from him, holding up a pair of olive green pants. Logan takes them, watches as Julian holds a white shirt up against Logan’s chest, seemingly sizing it against Logan’s body. It seems to pass his inspection, and he hands that to Logan as well.

There’s a moment where Julian seems to suddenly realize how close they’re standing, meets Logan’s eyes and starts a little. He opens his mouth, inhales like he’s about to say something.

The doorbell rings, and Logan doesn’t miss the slight tensing of Julian’s shoulders.

“It’s probably the food,” Logan says, “I ordered from Giovanni’s.”

“Right,” Julian takes a step back, “Go ahead and change, then. I’ll go get it.”

Before Logan can spout off one of his rehearsed be-safe spiels, Julian does it for him.

“I know what their uniforms look like,” he says, “I won’t answer the door if it’s someone I don’t recognize.”

He heads out, and Logan changes as quickly as he can. The sweatpants are just an inch or two too short, the shirt a little tight around his arms. Still, it’s infinitely more comfortable than his suit had been, and he folds his clothes into a neat pile before making his way downstairs.

“Damn,” Julian says, whistling lowly when he sees Logan in his clothes, “You pull those off way better than I ever did.”

“Please,” Logan scoffs, “Like you’ve ever worn _sweatpants_ a day in your life.”

“I sleep in them, sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” Logan eyes the bag in Julian’s hand, “You weren’t planning on hogging all of that, were you? Because I’m really looking forward to that gnocchi.”

“I was gonna take it outside actually, if you’re cool with that? Carmen kind of turned my dining room into her personal office. I have a table in the backyard, though.”

“That’s fine,” Logan says, “I’ll grab the drinks.”

He picks up the glasses from the kitchen counter, follows Julian through the house and onto the back patio. He hasn’t actually spent much time in this part of the house. Julian’s got a fantastic view of the sunset from his yard, a beautiful pool complete with a trickling waterfall. There’s a small table with two chairs under an ivy-lined overhang, and Julian sets the bag of food down before taking a seat.

“You better have gotten me something good,” he says, rifling through the bag and pulling out each container.”

“Chicken Florentine?”

Julian actually _moans_ at the answer, locates the right box and inhales the scent.

“Oh my god, you got stuffed mushrooms, too? You’re the _best_.”

Logan grins, pulls his own meal close and digs in. Julian’s practically inhaling his own food, showing bites into his mouth faster than he can conceivably chew.

They eat like that in silence for a while before Julian looks up.

“Just to be clear,” he says, through a mouthful of pasta, “I’m not forcing you to stay. I’m definitely not going anywhere else today, so if you have anything you’d rather be doing you can totally leave.”

“Do you _want_ me to go?”

“No,” Julian looks away, pokes at a mushroom with his fork, “I mean it…it’s really quiet, when nobody’s here.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, thinking of the absolutely overwhelming silence of his own apartment, “I think I know what you mean.”

Julian takes a sip of his drink, and Logan realizes he’s almost finished it off.

“You might wanna slow down,” he warns him, “That’s a hell of a lot stronger than you’d think.”

“I told you, I need to get drunk,” Julian downs the rest of his glass, then pulls out a wine bottle Logan hadn’t even seen him grab out of the kitchen. He doesn’t bother with a glass for it, just sips straight out of the bottle.

“I’m not carrying you upstairs again.”

“Again? When did you carry me upstairs?”

“My very first week,” Logan says, “Remember? You got super drunk with Clark’s band and passed out in the car?”

“Oh,” Julian frowns, “I wondered about that. Alex doesn’t usually bother to take my shoes off, first. Thanks.”

He takes another bite of his food, chews thoughtfully.

“Do you have lights or anything out here?” Logan asks when the sun dips below the horizon, “It’s getting kinda dark.”

Julian gestures at a switch on the wall, picks up his wine bottle and takes another sip. Logan reaches for the switch, flips it.

He almost forgets hot to breathe for a moment.

The switch triggers a chain of fairy lights woven within the ivy above them. A series of lights by the pool illuminate as well, making the water look like some kind of mystical pond.

“Wow,” he murmurs, staring out at the yard, “Damn, Julian, this is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Julian looks out at it, too, “I was dating this guy when I had it set up. Sebastian. I had this dumb idea that we could have date nights out here, or something. But it didn’t work out so…I’ve never actually used them, before.”

Logan’s a little surprised that Julian’s revealing so much. But his face is a little flushed from the alcohol, his movements a little uncoodinated. Logan’s not sure he even realizes what he’s saying.

“It must get lonely,” he says, “living in this huge house all alone.”

“Yeah,” Julian’s voice is soft, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hands, “It is.”

“You can’t have _that_ hard of a time dating. I mean, you’re Julian Larson.”

Julian laughs a little, “You’d be surprised.”

“Why? You’re famous. You’re attractive. People seem to like you.”

“What, like Clark?” Julian looks up at him, “Because I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of my only friend.”

“…just a friend?”

Julian rolls his eyes, “He did tell me he talked to you about this, you know. We’re really just friends. I mean, on paper we’d be great, I guess. I just don’t…I don’t know.”

“Feel anything more?”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t know, maybe movies are just giving me unrealistic expectations about relationships.

He takes another long sip of wine, curls up a little in his chair. Logan’s not totally sure what to say to that, isn’t certain if Julian’s seeking comfort or just talking to talk.

“…you’re still young,” he finally settles with, “You have plenty of time to figure that all out.”

“Unless this stalker kills me.”

“Hey,” Logan leans forward, rests a hand on Julian’s knee, “I won’t let that happen, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe.”

Julian looks up, eyes boring into Logan’s. He’s never really payed much attention to Julian’s irises before — they’re a beautiful shade of brown, tinged with flecks of gold and an odd, intoxicating burnt orange shade. They’re intense, when focused, and Logan’s chest feels a little tight.

“You’ll protect me?” Julian says, voice soft.

“With my life.”

Julian leans a little closer. Logan can almost feels his breath against his skin.

“Would you take a bullet for me, Logan?”

Logan knows he should probably be a little concerned about Julian’s fixation with his own death, but he’s frozen in place by those eyes. His throat feels dry, and he has to swallow before he answers.

“If that’s what it takes.”

The kiss isn’t much of a surprise, at that point.

Julian tastes like red wine, smells like something sweet that Logan can’t quite place. His lips are firm and sure, and Logan really can’t help but kiss back.

He slides his hand from Julian’s knee to his thigh, and Julian takes it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. He brings his own hand to Logan’s face, sweeps it around the back of his neck and pulls him closer. Logan parts his lips, sweeps his tongue into Julian’s mouth.

The man moans, pushes himself out of his chair and slides into Logan’s lap. Logan brings his arms around Julian’s waist, holds him in place as the actor kisses him fiercely.

 _This is a bad idea_ , he thinks, but Julian’s hands are sliding underneath Logan’s shirt and it feels so, _so_ good. His own hands find their way to Julian’s ass, squeeze at the firm muscle barely hidden beneath tight black jeans.

 _Such a bad idea_ , his mind is screaming at him. Julian is his _boss_ , he _pays_ him, and Logan’s been trying so hard to remain professional.

It’s not until Clark’s voice rings in his head that he finally comes to his senses.

I _think sometimes he uses sex as a way of trying to get affection and attention, you know? Like he thinks that’s what people want from him. It’s probably fucked up that I just go along with it._

“Wait,” Logan pulls away, presses his hands to Julian’s chest to keep them separated.

“No,” Julian whines, runs his own fingers along Logan’s ribs, “Don’t stop the kissing. I _like_ the kissing.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m barely tipsy.”

“You’re my _boss_.”

“I don’t _care_.”

Julian presses forward again, manages to graze Logan’s lips before the blonde’s pushing him away again.

“I said I don’t care, Logan.”

“Well I do,” Logan says firmly, “I’m not your fucking stress relief, alright?”

Julian just stares down at him, for a moment. The look on his face hardens a little, and he slides out of Logan’s lap.

“For the record,” he spits, scooping the half-empty wine bottle from the table, “You should probably tell a guy you’re not interested in him _before_ you stick your tongue down his throat.”

“Julian…”

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

He storms off, carrying the bottle with him.

Logan sighs, pauses to gather up the remnants of their meal. He’s inside, halfway to the kitchen when he hears the scream.

The boxes fall from his hands, and his hand reaches into his waistband for his gun. He takes the stairs two at a time, screeches to a halt in front of Julian’s door.

Julian is pressed up against the hallway wall, both hands covering his mouth. The wine bottle’s fallen from his hands, red liquid leaking all over the white carpet. He’s trembling, eyes wide in terror as he whimpers against his palms.

“Julian, what is it?”

He just raises one shaking arm, points through the doorway and into his bedroom. Logan raises his gun, steps through the door.

The windows are wide open, the breeze making the photographs hastily taped to the wall blow in the wind. Logan curses, walks fully into the room and spins in a slow circle.

The walls are _covered_ in polaroids — pictures of Julian at work, at home, walking around town. There’s pictures of Julian swimming in his backyard, photos of him _asleep in his bed_. Any pictures featuring a second person shows their face violently blacked out; including, Logan notices, a good number of pictures of _him_.

There are rose petals all over the floor, covering it in a bright red carpet. A full bouquet of roses set in the center of the bed, resting beside another letter.

Logan picks it up by a single corner, holds it gingerly between two fingers.

_You missed me, didn’t you, Julian?_

_I missed you._

_I’m coming for you._

_You don’t have to worry anymore._

_I love you._


	8. you got your back against a wall

Julian is frozen in the hallway, still sitting splayed-out where he’d fallen in shock, the dropped bottle leaking deep red underneath him. It looks disturbingly like blood, and Logan hurriedly drops to his knees beside the man, evaluates him quickly.

He appears to be fine — physically, at least.

He’s still trembling, large tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, still fixed on the macabre scene of his bedroom.

“Julian, don’t look at it. Please. Look at me, okay?”

He grips Julian’s chin firmly in his hand, pulls until watery brown eyes meet his own. It’s eerily reminiscent of Daniel’s accident just this morning, and Logan can hardly believe so much has happened in a single day.

“It’s my _house_ ,” Julian gasps finally, voice breaking, “My _room_. It was supposed to be _safe_.”

“I know,” Logan says hurriedly, glancing around, “But for now we need to get you out of here, okay? Can you stand?”

Julian nods, but his hands clutch at Logan’s shirt. It's unclear if his clumsiness is due to the liquor or the sheer terror inevitably running through his system. Either way, Logan has to half-pull him to his feet, hold him steady as he leads the way downstairs. He’s got one hand on his gun still, knows there’s a chance the intruder is still _here,_ just waiting for him to slip up again.

Thankfully, they manage to make it to the front door without incident. Logan rushes them to his own car, shoves Julian into the passenger seat and darts around to the other side. He triple-checks that the doors are locked, starts the engine in case they need to make a quick getaway.

“You have your phone?”

Julian startles at the question, pats at his pocket and nods.

“Good. I want you to call Carmen, okay? Tell her we had a break-in but that you’re safe. I’m gonna call the police.”

Julian’s fingers are still shaking, as he pulls up his contacts. Logan reaches over, squeezes one hand lightly.

“Hey. You’re okay.”

He waits for Julian to calm down a little, lets go of his hand to dial 9-1-1.

Adrenaline is rushing through his body. It’s a little difficult, keeping so calm while he explains the situation to dispatch. But Julian still looks absolutely _terrified_ , and he knows that any outward sign of panic will have him even more frightened. He stays on the line even after he’s been assured help is on the way, just in case Julian’s stalker makes another appearance.

Beside him, Julian is explaining the situation to Carmen, stuttering a little over his words. She seems to understand, though, and Julian hangs up and shrinks into his seat, makes himself as small as possible.

“Is she coming?”

Julian nods, once.

The distant sound of sirens rings through the air. As soon as the flashing lights appear down the street, Logan turns to Julian.

“I’m gonna go talk to them, alright?”

The terrified look reappears. One of Julian’s hands darts out, grips Logan’s arm with near-inhuman strength. It's almost painful, how tightly Julian's hanging on to him.

“Don’t,” he begs, voice tinged with desperation, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be right outside the car. I promise.”

He hands Julian the keys, presses them against the other man’s palm and tries to smile.

“The second I close this door, I want you to lock the car. Don’t unlock it for anyone but me. You understand me?”

“…yes.”

Julian uncurls his fingers from Logan’s arm slowly, staring at the keys in his other hand.

Logan steps out just as the red-and-blue lights pull into the driveway, hears the _click_ of the locks engaging and nods reassuringly at Julian.

He explains the situation to the police officers as quickly as he can, tells them the stalker may still be in the house. They both draw their own weapons before approaching the front door, instruct Logan to wait outside and stay out of the way. He feels a little useless, standing out by his car while the cops comb the house. But Julian's still staring at him with wide, scared eyes -- would likely panic even more if he'd been left alone out here while Logan went inside with the police.

There's a sudden flash of headlights, and another car pulls into the driveway, parks haphazardly behind the patrol car. Logan assumes it’s Carmen, at first, tenses when what's clearly a male figure steps out instead.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls, raising empty hands in the air as the figure steps into the light, “Don’t freak, alright? It’s just me.”

Liam steps forward, glances between Logan and the locked car beside him.

“He’s safe, right? Julian?”

Logan frowns, eyes narrowing, “What are you doing here, Liam?”

“Carmen texted us all. Said there was some kind of security incident?” He leans down, raps his knuckles against the car window, “Julian? Hey, buddy, you doing alright?”

Logan steps in front of the door, nudges Liam out of the way.

“How’d you get here so fast? I only called Carmen _ten minutes_ ago.”

“I live close by.”

“You live close. On our salary. You realize the cheapest house around here still runs around ten mil, right?”

Liam straightens, crosses his arms over his chest, “What are you getting at, exactly?”

“I just think it’s a little weird that you just _happened_ to be in the neighborhood at the exact time something happened.”

“Oh yeah? Well _I_ think it’s a little weird that this happened while _you_ were supposed to be watching him. Wearing his clothes, too, by the looks of it," He raises an eyebrow, shoots a pointed look at Logan's outfit, "What was going, exactly?”

Logan opens his mouth to argue, but a sudden screech of tires grabs both men’s attention. A sleek black car barrels straight over the lawn, coming to a halt beside Logan’s own car.

“Fuck,” Liam says under his breath, “Mama bear ain’t playing around.”

Carmen doesn’t bother shutting off the engine.

Doesn’t even close her _door_.

She stomps over their way, her normally-heeled feet clad in a plush pair of white slippers. There’s a purple silk robe fluttering around her shoulders, blowing open in the wind to reveal a matching knee-length slip. Large yellow curlers are wound through her hair, thickly-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

“Where is he?” She demands without preamble, and Logan and Liam point at the car in unison.

Carmen immediately reaches for the handle, fixes Logan with an angry glare when it doesn’t budge.

“Open this door, Wright.”

“I can’t. He has the keys.”

Carmen curses, leans in and knocks against the window, “Julian, unlock the car. Please.”

Julian looks up, glances Logan’s way almost as if asking permission. Logan nods at him, and the doors click open. Carmen nearly yanks the door of its hinges in her rush to get to Julian, pulls him into a tight hug and murmurs something as she rubs his back.

It’s almost motherly, the way she holds him.

It’s _not_ as sweet when she releases him, turns to Logan with a look of absolute fury.

“How the _hell_ did this happen?”

Logan takes a deep breath, tells her everything.

Alex and Nicky both show up partway though his explanation, each shooting worried looks at Julian as they walk over. Logan has to restart his story twice, finally makes it to the end just as the officers exit the house. Carmen immediately veers toward them, robes still trailing behind her in the breeze.

Logan takes her spot, drops to a knee beside Julian’s seat and squeezes his hand. He’s vaguely aware of Alex and Nicky walking off to check the perimeter. Liam’s still lingering by the car, but Logan ignores him. Julian seems to have calmed down a little, is breathing more evenly than he had before.

“Where am I supposed to go?” He asks, softly “I can’t…I can’t _stay_ here. My dad’s in Japan, my mom’s in Italy…where do I _go?_ ”

“We’ll figure that all out, okay? I promise. We’ll find somewhere safe.”

Carmen calls for Logan, suddenly, and Julian’s eyes widen.

“Don’t _leave_.”

“I’ll be right there, okay? Next to Carmen. I’m not going anywhere.”

Julian still looks unsure, but Liam leans against the door.

“Hey,” he says, ducking his head down so Julian can see him, “I watched that movie you told me about — the sci-fi one? I gotta say, you made it sound a lot better than it actually was.”

Julian frowns at that, but seems sufficiently distracted. Despite his distrust of the man, Logan knows he won't try anything with everyone around. He lets the man pull Julian into a conversation, rises to his feet and jogs over to Carmen.

“They said the system was shut off for twelve minutes,” she tells him, “It must’ve been while the two of you were outside. Alex and I are going to look over the security footage. In the meantime, we need to find somewhere to take Julian…”

Her gaze flicks back to the car, eyes softening a little.

“He can stay with me.”

Logan’s not entirely sure where _that_ comes from. Once he’s said it, though, he realizes it’s the best possible course of action.

Carmen turns, blinks at him, “Excuse me?”

“I live alone. My building has security. The lease isn’t in my name, it’s through the agency. Nobody will be able to track him down there.”

“Do you have a spare room for him?”

“He can take mine. Until we figure out something more permanent, at least.”

Carmen still looks a little unsure.

“Look,” he continues, “It’s the only option that really makes sense. Alex has his family, Nicky has her wife, Liam’s got a roommate. He can’t stay with a friend — TMZ’s published pictures of Clark’s house, they’d expect him to be there. Unless you’re willing to have him stay with you…”

She sighs, looks over at the car where Liam’s talking to Julian.

“No,” she says, finally, “He’d be safer with you. For now, at least. We’re going to have to make some changes, I’ll meet with the others. Security’s going to have to increase again, I’ll need one of you with him at all times. We'll redo the system in the house, I suppose...there must be something we missed...”

“...do you trust Liam, Carmen?”

Carmen looks a little startled at that, “Is there a specific reason you're asking me that question?”

“I'm not sure I do. I don’t like the way he acts around Julian. Plus he showed up here _minutes_ after I called you, and he couldn’t explain why he was in the neighborhood.”

“You think he did all this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. But he gives me a weird feeling. If we’re talking security changes…I think you need to let him go.”

She glances back at the car, where Liam’s still talking to Julian.

“His background checks were clear. He came highly recommended…”

“Look,” Logan says, lowering his voice, “I set that alarm when we got back here. I _know_ I did. Someone knew how to shut it off, knew exactly how to get into Julian’s _bedroom_ without being seen. This isn’t just some stranger. They _know_ things.”

Carmen sighs, reaches up to scrub at her face with a hand.

“…take Julian home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“But…”

She holds up a hand, cutting him off, “Alex and I are going to go over the tapes. I want to meet with all of you tomorrow, separately. We’ll discuss changes then.”

“I just think—“

“Take him home,” she repeats, “He needs to rest.”

Logan just accepts defeat, turns to head back to the car.

“…the directing wasn’t _that_ great,” Liam’s saying, despite the obvious pained grimace on Julian’s face, “I mean, that whole scene with the slow-motion comet?”

“It was _artistic_ ,” Julian counters, “Just because you don’t appreciate it doesn’t make it _bad_.”

“Hey,” Logan interrupts, ignores the look Liam shoots him, “I’m supposed to get you out of here, Julian. Carmen’s orders.”

Liam raises an eyebrow at him, “Where are you taking him, exactly?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“That’s vague.”

“I meant it to be.”

“Look, Wright,” Liam straightens, “I don’t know who the _fuck_ you think you are…”

“Good thing that’s none of your damn business, then.”

He closes the car door, crosses to the driver’s side without another look at Liam. Julian looks a little confused.

“Where _are_ we going?”

“My place.”

“Your…right. Your place. Carmen agreed to that?”

“She did,” he pulls out of the driveway, glances sideways at Julian, “Put on your seatbelt.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

"It'd be safer if you wore your damn seatbelt."

Julian looks mildly annoyed, pulls the belt over his chest and eyes Logan as it clicks into place.

"Is it  _safe_?"

“I promised you I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, didn’t I?”

Julian doesn’t respond. They’re both quiet, the entire drive to Logan’s apartment. It’s a testament to how scared Julian is, that he doesn’t question the decision for him to stay at Logan’s for the night. He does look around a little nervously when Logan parks, like he’s waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows.

“Stay there for a sec, okay?” Logan says, once he’s parked.

Julian listens, thankfully, and remains where he is while Logan exits the car and walks to his side. He knows they’re safe, here, watched carefully to make sure nobody had followed them from Julian’s house. Still, he scans the lot, makes sure the street is clear before he opens Julian’s door.

He helps the other man up, keeps a tight grip on his arm and quickly ushers him inside. The elevator in the building tends to be slow, so he elects to take the stairs instead, pulls Julian up four flights and into the hallway. He presses Julian against the wall while he searches for the right key, makes sure the actor stays within his line of sight.

Once the door’s unlocked, he nods for Julian to go ahead, immediately locks the door and pulls the chain into place.

Julian takes a few steps inside, circles around the living room once.

“It’s small,” he says, “Not what you’d expect for a Senator’s kid.”

Logan freezes, hand still on the light switch.

“What?” Julian turns, lifts an eyebrow his direction, “You didn’t think you were the only one who knew how to use Google, did you?”

“You looked me up.”

“Wasn’t hard. You guys have the same name.”

Julian walks further into the apartment, skims his fingers over the piano in the corner.

“What did you find, exactly?”

“Not much,” Julian says, idly, perching on the edge of Logan’s sofa, “Only son of a New York Senator. Went to some ritzy boarding school. That video of you beating the shit out of a guy at a charity gala.”

Logan’s silent. He knows exactly what video Julian’s talking about — his dad had pulled every string he had to try and get it stripped off the internet, but it doesn’t surprise him that Julian’s managed to find it, anyway. Logan had found it himself, not too long ago, linked on an article about John’s political ambitions.

He also knows that Julian could have him fired in a heartbeat, for this.

It doesn’t show up on his background check. He’d been seventeen, when it happened, a minor in the eyes of the law. He's made sure of that, double and triple-checked that his name isn't on any kind of police database.

Of course, he never thought about what would pop up if someone just  _Googled_ him.

“Did he deserve it?”

“…excuse me?”

“The guy you beat up. Did he deserve it?”

“ _I_ thought so.”

Julian just nods, a little, leans back and crosses one leg over his knee.

“There was a guy. In the comments section. Said he went to high school with you. That you had anger management problems.”

“People lie,” Logan says, making a mental note to search for the comment, threaten whoever posted it with a lawsuit.

“You keep pills in your jacket pocket. I looked up the name.”

“Look, Julian, I’m not…”

“What does it feel like?”

“What does what feel like?”

“When you get angry.”

Logan sighs. He crosses the room, makes sure the curtains are drawn shut. That nobody can see Julian up here.

Julian’s still watching him, he knows.

“I have it under control,” he says, finally, “I take meds. Go to boxing classes. Do fucking _yoga_ and shit. Don’t tell Carmen, alright? I kind of need this job.”

“She wouldn’t fire you. I wouldn’t let her. Not for that.”

“You just found out the guy who’s supposed to protect you has anger issues. So bad he almost beat a guy to _death_. And you don’t care.”

“Everyone gets angry, sometimes.”

Logan settles onto the opposite end of the couch, looks Julian’s way.

“So that’s why you don’t talk to your dad anymore?”

“He disowned me,” Logan says, “Technically, he gave me an ultimatum. Told me I had to voluntarily check in to a _psych ward_ , or he was cutting me off.”

“So you left.”

“I left,” Logan sighs, leans forward a little, “Look, I…this isn’t my dream job, alright? But there’s really not a ton of options for guys like me without college degrees.”

“He never tried to actually help you, did he?”

“What? No, I…”

“Nobody did, did they? Nobody noticed.”

Logan stares at him, a little puzzled.

“It’s just…gotta be hard. To have anger like that, and people just…think you’re a bad person," Julian shrugs, twists his hands in his lap, "to need help and not have anyone notice. To just want someone to _fucking_ notice…”

“…we’re not still talking about me, are we?”

Julian looks up, smiles brightly.

Logan knows him well enough to know it's fake.

“Of course we are. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Julian.”

But Julian seems to be done with this conversation.

“Could I have some water?”

Logan sighs, stands and makes his way to the kitchen. He has to rinse out a glass, fills it nearly to the brim before returning to hand it to Julian. He's messing with something small in his hand, and Logan reaches out, tugs at Julian’s wrist.

“What the fuck is this?”

There’s a small white pill in Julian’s palm, and Logan wrestles it out of his grasp, reads the tiny inscription carved into it.

“Xanax? Do you have a prescription for this?”

“…it helps. It’s supposed to be for like, panicking, right? Anxiety? Someone broke into my _house_ tonight, Logan.”

“Where did you _get_ this, Julian?”

Julian doesn’t reply, but Logan _knows_. He’d only interacted with a handful of people the last few hours, and he knows it couldn’t have been Carmen.

“Liam. He gave this to you, didn’t he?”

“He said it would help.”

“Did he give you the ecstasy, too?”

“Would you rather me say I got it from a stranger? That hardly sounds safe.”

“You shouldn’t be doing drugs at _all_ , Julian!” Logan tosses the pill aside, hears it clatter somewhere in the kitchen.

“It’s _Hollywood_ , what do you expect? Fifteen-year-old Disney stars are high half the time.”

“I expect you to be fucking smart,” Logan says, “You’re not an idiot, Julian, why the hell would you take shit like that?”

“Because it makes me feel good, Logan,” Julian says, “Because I get fucking _stressed_ sometimes, and I need to pretend I’m not. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal that one of the people who’s supposed to be keeping you _safe_ is also giving you _drugs_.”

Julian rolls his eyes, crosses his arms defiantly over his chest.

“Julian,” Logan says, slowly, “Did he…do you know why he was at your house tonight?”

“Because I invited him.”

“You invited…” Logan shuts his eyes, takes a slow breath in and lets it out through his mouth.

“Oh so _there’s_ the anger management techniques.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Logan growls, “Why did you… _when_ did you?”

“After we…” Julian trails off, clears his throats, “Right before I went upstairs. I texted him. Asked him to come over.”

“…to fuck you.”

“Well _you_ wouldn’t.”

“Because I’m your…fucking hell, Julian, do you not see how messed up that is? He’s your _employee._ You’re his _boss_. He’s supposed to be keeping you safe, you guys shouldn’t be—“

“Oh, like you didn’t think about it?”

“That’s not…”

“You pulled me into your _lap_ , Logan,” Julian says, almost tauntingly, “I felt you get hard, you know.”

“He shouldn’t be sleeping with you.”

“I’m not a _child_ , Logan,” Julian scowls at him, “I can make my own choices.”

“Well it doesn’t matter, anyway. I already told Carmen to let him go.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to get laid without him,” Logan stands, “Now _I’d_ really like to go to sleep, so how about we get you to bed, hm?”

“You gonna tuck me into bed, too? Tell me a bedtime story? Sing me a lullaby?”

Logan just reaches down, yanks Julian up harshly by the arm and tugs him into the bedroom. He shoves him towards the bed, gestures at the dresser against the wall.

“Find some clothes, if you wanna change. Bathroom’s that way. I’ll be on the couch, if you need me. Try not to need me.”

He walks out before Julian can say anything, leans against the wall and just breathes for a second.

So Julian knows who he is. Knows what he did, what’s _wrong_ with him. Hadn’t seemed to care, really. He supposes that’s something he can deal with — if Julian’s not bothered by his anger issues, maybe it won’t come up again. It’s definitely something he’ll have to be careful of in the future, something he’s going to have to work to scrub off the internet. But he doesn’t entirely like the idea of Julian knowing so much of his personal life. Not after what had transpired between them just hours ago.

He tries to shake off the memory of the kiss, the way his hands still _itch_ at the thought of Julian in his lap. Tries to focus on the _other_ part of that conversation — what had been revealed about Liam.

The thing is, he knows Julian’s not _wrong_ , that he’s perfectly capable of hooking up with whoever he wants. But it further proves Liam’s unprofessionalism, and he knows Carmen’s not going to like the idea of one of Julian’s bodyguards providing him with _drugs_. He can’t believe it’s been going on right under the noses, that someone who’d sworn to keep Julian safe had instead been stealthily feeding him a supply of who knows what.

He sighs, grabs a spare blanket from the linen closet and stretches out on his sofa. It’s not entirely comfortable — he hadn’t expected to be _sleeping_ on the thing when he’d bought it. The city lights are streaming in through the window a little too brightly, and he chastises himself for never bothering to buy curtains for this room. He rolls onto his side, tries to find a position that doesn’t feel entirely cramped.

His eyes light on Julian’s glass of water, forgotten on the coffee table.

 _Don’t bring it to him,_ he tells himself, _He’s a fucking spoiled brat already, you don’t need to hand-deliver water to him when he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself._

 _He_ did _just suffer a pretty traumatic event, though,_ a voice that feels remarkably like Derek rings through his mind next, _His co-worker almost died. Someone broke into his house. You kissed him, you absolute idiot, and then pushed him away like he was garbage. He's upset._

“God fucking damnit,” he grunts out, rising to his feet and picking the glass up from the table.

He marches back to the bedroom, knocks lightly at the door and lets himself in.

Julian’s already in bed, curled up small on his side, eyes already half-closed. He shifts a little when the door opens, tilts his head to look up at Logan.

“You forgot your water,” he says shortly, setting it down on the nightstand beside the bed, “Didn’t want you waking me up to bitch about it, later.”

He turns, starts to make his way out of the room.

“Logan?”

Julian’s blinking at him sleepily, and Logan sighs.

“Yes?”

“‘m sorry. For trying to kiss you.”

“It’s not…” he shuts his eyes, exhales through his nose, “It’s not your fault. I did kiss back, after all.”

“Yeah,” Julian pulls the blankets up to his chin, yawns and slurs his words a little, “Still. Shouldn't've. The googling, too. Not my business.”

He seems genuine. It's probably just the lingering alcohol, the fact that Julian's already mostly asleep. Still, Logan feels a little guilty about the way he reacted. Julian  _has_ been through a lot today -- he doesn't deserve a lecture right now.

“…then I’m sorry too,” Logan says, with only a small amount of reluctance, “For being kind of a dick, about it. You’ve been through a lot today, I should’ve…been nicer, I guess.”

Julian doesn’t respond.

He’s asleep, Logan realizes, with a twinge of annoyance. Had probably been out for Logan’s whole apology. What a waste.

He _is_ considerably less frustrating, like this.

Logan watches him, for a moment. Julian looks so _young_ , in sleep, with how small he’s curled up. His features aren’t completely peaceful — there’s a small furrow in his brow, a slight downturn to his lips.

He reaches forward before he realizes what he’s doing, runs the tips of his fingers over Julian’s mouth. The other man makes a soft, airy sound, and Logan freezes.He’s ready for Julian’s eyes to snap open, for him to question what Logan’s _doing_. Instead, he just settles further into the pillow, face finally smoothing out. The frown disappears, and his breathing evens out.

Logan pulls his hand back, backs quickly out of the room and lets the door shut tightly behind him.


	9. all I know is pouring rain

_Julian’s awake, when Logan opens his eyes, lying on his side and watching the blonde with a faint smile on his lips. The smile grows when Logan stirs, a soft, fond look appearing in Julian’s eyes._

_“Morning,” he says._

_He leans in, kisses Julian softly. When he pulls back, the man whines low in his throat._

_“That’s not all I get, is it?”_

_Logan laughs, winds an arm around Julian’s waist and tugs the man until he falls onto Logan’s chest. Julian’s grin is impossibly wide now, eyes sparkling as he looks down at Logan._

_“That’s better.”_

_He leans in, draws Logan into a deep, slow kiss._

_He tastes like coffee._

_Logan moans, slides his hands down Julian’s back, brushes lightly at his hips before moving to knead at his ass._

_“Fuck…” Julian breathes, “Logan, please. I want you.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_Logan grins, tilts his head up to nip at Julian’s neck. Julian whimpers a little, but then pulls back suddenly, sits straight up and looks down at Logan with wide eyes._

_“You’ll protect me, won’t you?”_

_Logan frowns. He’s not sure where the question came from, not sure what Julian means. Before he can wrap his mind around it, Julian jerks in his hands a little, gasps as if in pain._

_There’s an odd red spot on his shirt, right over his heart. As Logan watches, mildly horrified, the red grows, seeping into white fabric. Julian’s mouth is open, and a tear creeps its way down his face._

_“You promised,” he gasps, as the red drips down his shirt, “You_ promised… _”_

_“Julian…”_

_“Logan,” Julian’s voice comes out as a broken sob, “Logan…_ ”

 

“Logan!”

He jerks awake, body seizing as he snaps to consciousness. Julian’s sitting on the coffee table, a steaming mug in his hand. He looks somewhat amused.

“Good dream?”

“Fuck off.”

He sits up, rubs at his eyes and glares at Julian.

“That’s not a chair, you know. If you break my table…”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s ugly anyway,” Julian says, holding the mug out to Logan.

“…you made me coffee?”

“No,” Julian rolls his eyes, “I made _me_ coffee. But turns out _you_ don’t have any cream or sugar in your kitchen. And I don’t drink sludge.”

Logan rolls his eyes, takes the mug from Julian and sips at it.

The actor’s been staying at Logan’s apartment for three long, agonizing days now. They’ve barely left the building, much to Julian’s apparent annoyance; it’s taken Carmen longer than expected to work through the security issues, and they still don’t have a long-term solution on what to do. She’s hired two separate security companies to work on locking down Julian’s house, had offered triple their regular fee to speed up the process. Still, it’s taking them a few days to re-install cameras and set up the system, and Logan’s been stuck with a stir-crazy Julian.

He seems different today, though, is watching Logan with an intense focus as he stretches.

“I see you raided my closet,” Logan says, raising an eyebrow at the _Dalton Fencing_ hoodie Julian’s wearing over too-long jeans.

“I didn’t pack enough clothes last time we were home. Didn’t think I’d be stuck here for this long.”

“It’s fine,” Logan says, sipping at the coffee, “I didn’t even know I still had that sweatshirt, actually. That’s from like…sophomore year of high school.”

Julian shrugs, tugging at the sleeves a little, “It’s comfortable.”

“We can stop by your house today if you want,” Logan says, “If you want to pick up more clothes. Maybe intimidate the security company into working faster?”

“No. I have different plans today.”

“Oh really?” Logan asks, amused, “Because last I checked, all of your projects have been put on hold so you don’t _die_.”

“We’re going shopping.”

“…shopping.”

“Your apartment is depressing as fuck. You need _something_ on the walls. Better food. Pillows that don’t make my neck hurt.”

“Well I didn’t exactly furnish the place to accommodate _you_ , Princess.”

“Finish your coffee. We’re going shopping.”

Julian doesn’t give Logan the opportunity to argue. He stands, disappears into Logan’s bathroom and shuts the door.

Logan sighs, tries not to think too hard about his dream.It’s not the first one he’s had since Julian’s been staying over. It’s the same every time — Julian kissing him, Logan promising to keep him safe, quickly followed by Julian _hurt_ , staring down at Logan with betrayal in his eyes.

He’s just not sure what it _means_.

Once he’s done with his coffee he stands up, abandons the mug on the counter and digs an outfit out of his closet.

Julian’s still in the bathroom, so he strips where he is, tosses his clothes into the hamper and shimmies into fresh jeans. He hears a low whistle behind him, stiffens at the other man's voice.

“Damn, Wright. Work it.”

“You have zero concept of boundaries, do you?”

He doesn’t bother glancing Julian’s way, just grabs a shirt from his closet and pulls it over his head.

“None,” Julian says casually, leaning against the doorway, “One of my many flaws, really.”

“Well at least you admit you have flaws.”

“Hey, I know I’m not perfect,” Julian tilts his head, follows Logan out of the room once he’s dressed, “But I am pretty damn close.”

“And _there’s_ the spoiled brat I know.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Logan rolls his eyes, finds his phone and wallet buried under a couch cushion. His keys are still hung on a thumbtack by the door, and Julian rolls his eyes.

“Remind me to get you an actual key ring thingy,” he says, still trailing after Logan, “I have a whole list. You need an armchair for that corner, a nightstand that’s not some cheap thing you picked up at Ikea, an actual bookshelf…”

He eyes the stack of books in the middle of the living room floor, looking slightly disgusted.

“You know,” Logan says, even as he opens the door and ushers Julian out, “I don’t actually recall hiring you to be my interior designer.”

“Yet here I am,” Julian smiles sweetly, loops his arm through Logan’s as they make their way downstairs, “Helping you out. Out of the kindness of my heart.”

“This is purely because you’re bored, don’t bullshit me.”

“I’ve never had this many days off in a row,” Julian complains, “ _Ever_. Even when I’m not actually _working_ I still have shit to do. But Carmen won’t let me go to parties, or the studio, or _anything_.”

“You’re not supposed to go anywhere that’s on your regular schedule,” Logan explains, opening the passenger door of his car and letting Julian in, “Anywhere that people would expect you, you know? You can still leave my apartment.”

“Hence the shopping.”

Julian leans forward to fiddle with the radio the moment Logan turns the engine on, flips past all of his carefully cultivated programmed stations and settles on some indie-rock channel.

“You wanna tell me where we’re going?” Logan asks, “I assume you have some sort of idea, here?”

“Just get to the 405,” Julian says, leaning back in his seat, “I’ll direct you.”

“As you always do.”

Julian grins at him, hums along to the radio and interjects with the occasional order to take _this_ exit, turn _that_ way. They finally pull into a parking lot of a furniture store Logan doesn’t recognize the name of. It looks _nice_ , even from the outside, and Logan’s just a tad worried about the inevitable price tags he’ll see once they get inside.

“Come on,” Julian steps out of the car, waits impatiently for Logan to join him.

“I’m not buying furniture just because you tell me to,” Logan says, moving towards him, “It’s the first place I’ve furnished myself, I don’t need you taking over.”

“Relax,” Julian rolls his eyes as they head into the store, “Your tastes are pretty easy to figure out.”

Logan tries not to show his annoyance, tells himself that Julian’s still his _boss,_ despite everything.

He absolutely refuses to admit that Julian had been _right_.

He does seem to have a good grasp of Julian’s tastes, walks right past the more modern furniture up front that decorates his own house and heads towards the back of the store.

The section he leads Logan to is somehow traditional without being old-fashioned. There are sleigh beds carved out of walnut and cherrywood, dark leather couches and glass-topped dining sets. Logan trails his fingers over a bookcase with elaborate scrollwork decorating the top, yanks his hand away like he’s been burnt when he sees _four zeroes_ at the end of the price tag.

“Shit,” he says, eyes wide, “Look, you pay me well, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t afford this kind of stuff, alright? My stuff is all is from _Ikea_.”

Julian just waves him off, examines a coffee table that’s ten times nicer than what Logan has now.

“You’re not all that attached to anything in your apartment now, are you?” He asks, “That Ikea bed is replaceable?”

“Of course not, the only thing I actually _like_ is the piano, but…Julian this table is _thirty thousand dollars_.”

“You grew up rich, don’t act so scandalized.”

Julian moves on to the sofas, sits down on the one Logan had been eyeing and leans against the cushions.

“I’m not rich _now_ ,” Logan argues, “Come on, you said wall art and an armchair, not a total do-over of my entire apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it, alright?”

Julian raises one arm suddenly, makes the slightest of gestures that has a middle-aged man in a suit rushing his way.

“Mr. Larson,” the man smiles, folds his hands behind his back, “Redecorating already?”

“Nah, not yet. Not with _this_ stuff, at least,” Julian wrinkles his nose at the dark wood and leather around them, gestures vaguely in Logan’s direction, “His place is a nightmare. We need a total overhaul.”

The man’s eyes sparkle a little at that — he’s no doubt adding up the potential profit of this sale, calculating how much he can convince Julian to spring for.

“You liked this one, right?” Julian waves at the bookshelf Logan had admired, doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before turning back to the employee and demanding to see the rest of the set.

Two full hours later, Logan watches in mild horror as a brand new furniture set is rung up. Julian had insisted on a new bed, a coffee table, a comfier sofa, an _armchair_ , for some reason — he tries to add the total up in his head, but still swallows hard when he sees the final price.

Julian doesn’t even blink.

He slides a black American Express from his wallet, hands it over and demands expedited delivery. He signs the receipt with a flourish, turns back to Logan like he _hasn’t_ just forked over a small fortune.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I would literally kill a person for a burger right now.”

Logan gapes a little, “You just…you didn’t have to do that.”

“Um, yes, I did,” Julian says, “Your apartment makes me sad.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I put my phone on your nightstand and it fell over.”

“…I’m not great at putting together furniture.”

“Obviously,” Julian grins, grabs Logan by the elbow and pulls him out of the store, “You’re surprisingly useless, you know.”

“I can still knock you out with one punch, watch yourself princess.”

Julian laughs brightly, leans against Logan for a moment before pulling away as they approach the car.

“Burgers?” He asks, looking a little hopeful.

Logan sighs, “Drive-thru. Carmen’s already going to have my head for taking you out in public before she’s worked out this whole security fiasco.”

Julian’s lips curve into a pout. He widens his eyes a little, tilts his chin down and looks up at Logan through long eyelashes.

“Please?” His voice is soft, almost childlike, “Just for a little while? I won’t tell.”

“…fine,” Logan rolls his eyes, pushes Julian into the passenger seat and ignores the smug look of victory on his face.

“Half an hour,” he says firmly, “We’re eating, and that’s it. You’re going to let me pick a table, you’re not going to wander off, and for the love of all that is holy you’re going to _listen to me._ Are we clear?”

Julian hums, “I like when you take charge.”

“Alright, Casanova, how about you tell me where we’re going?”

“It's called _Stout_ ,” Julian grabs Logan’s phone off the dash, types an address into his GPS and hands it over, “They have this burger with rosemary bacon that literally makes angels cry.”

He leans back in his seat, hums along to whatever song’s playing on the radio.

“…thank you.”

Julian looks up, brow furrowed, “For what?”

“The furniture. I don’t think I said thank you, before.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Julian shrugs, “I mean it’s kind of the least I can do, right? For crashing at your place.”

“Carmen said I’d get a bonus.”

“Still,” Julian turns his way, smiles a little, “I know I can be a pain in the ass.”

“At least you acknowledge it.”

“I’m trying to be _nice_ here.”

“I know,” Logan sighs, “Sorry. Habit, I guess.”

"I was _gonna_ be even nicer and say you can take the bed tonight. I know sleeping on the sofa hurts your back.”

Logan frowns, “No it doesn’t, I’m fine.”

“Is that why you keep rubbing your shoulders?”

Logan opens his mouth to argue, suddenly becomes aware that he’s doing it _right now_. He drops his hand, shifts a little bit in his seat. His back _does_ hurt a little, now that he’s thinking about it — the sofa he has now isn’t really long enough to hold the full length of his body, and the contorted position he’s been sleeping in apparently hasn’t been doing him in favors.

 _Still_ …

“It’s just safer, with you in the bedroom,” Logan says, “I mean I don’t actually think anybody would track you down to my place, but at least if they _do_ I’m right by the front door.”

“What, you’re gonna knock someone out in your pajamas?”

“If I have to.”

Julian doesn’t respond, but he’s smiling a little when Logan glances over, quickly turns away and gestures at the road.

“You can um…you can park along here. It’s just down the street a little.”

Logan snags the first open spot he sees, hurries to follow Julian into the restaurant. They get a couple stares, a few people gaping as they recognize _Julian Larson_ walking in. He seems unfazed, nods at one of the waitresses and follows her to a secluded table in the back. He takes a seat, doesn’t roll his eyes when Logan moves his own chair into a position that allows him to watch the exits.

He’s halfway through pursuing the menu when he notices Julian’s staring at him, his own menu still resting on the table.

“Did you need something?”

“Hm?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, “You’re looking at me.”

“You’re sitting right in front of me, what else am I supposed to do?”

“Figure out what you want to eat?”

“I _know_ what I want to eat.”

“Well look somewhere else, then.”

Julian rolls his eyes, slouches down in his seat a little and scans the restaurant.

Logan glances down at his menu for a second, but soon finds his eyes back on Julian. It’s strange, him being so _normal_. Without the distraction of work the past few days, Julian’s been almost _human._ He sleeps in late, watches cartoons with his breakfast, whines about being cold even when the thermostat is a perfectly acceptable temperature.

As Logan watches, the waitress drops off a basket of French fries, and Julian looks absolutely _delighted_ as he grabs a handful.

“You ready?” The woman asks, and Logan’s eyes widen.

“You go first,” he says to Julian, blinking down at his menu and searching for something that looks good.

Julian orders his own, gives the waitress a winning smile that makes her blush a little. She’s flustered when she turns to Logan, a faint pink rising high in her cheeks.

“Um…same thing,” Logan says quickly, “And we might need more fries.”

Julian nods emphatically, already in the process of grabbing another handful. The waitress makes a note on her pad before walking away, and Logan rolls his eyes.

“You’re incapable of having a conversation without flirting, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t _flirting_ ,” Julian scoffs at him, “I just _smiled_. It’s polite, you know. Frowning all the time is gonna give you wrinkles.”

“I don’t frown all the time.”

“You’re doing it now,” Julian smirks a little, tosses a fry that bounces off Logan’s forehead.

“What the hell, are you _five_?”

“Smile, Wright,” Julian tosses another fry, this time hitting Logan’s nose.

“We’re in _public_. People are _watching_.”

“Oh, are you embarrassed?”Julian picks up another fry, “I’ll stop if you smile.”

“You’re a child.”

Another fry comes at him, and Logan ducks out of the way, lets it soar over just past his ear. Julian lets out a peal of laughter at that, and Logan feels the corners of his mouth twitch.

“See?” Julian says, amused, “You _do_ know how to smile.”

“You’re literally the worst.”

Julian just laughs again, pops another three fries into his mouth.

“Um…excuse me?”

There’s a soft voice just behind Logan’s shoulder, and he tenses before realizing it’s a child — perhaps seven or eight, curly hair done up in high pigtails. She looks a little shy, is holding what looks like a school notebook in her hands.

Julian’s expression changes almost instantly, face softening a little as he leans forward.

“Hey,” he says, kindly, “What’s your name?”

“Alicia,” she says quietly, “Are you Julian Larson?”

“I am,” he smiles, “It’s very nice to meet you, Alicia.”

Her eyes widen when Julian says her name, and she thrusts the notebook forward.

“You want an autograph?”

She nods, like she’s terrified to speak again. Julian looks down at the notebook.

“Is this your math homework, Alicia?”

“…it’s the only paper I have.”

“Hm,” Julian leans forward, conspiratorially, “I don’t want to ruin your homework. Do you think maybe you’d like a picture, instead?”

She gasps, hurries over to Julian’s side as he pulls his phone from his pocket. They both grin widely into the camera, and Julian lets her approve the final picture.

“Do you know your parents phone number, Alicia?”

The girl nods, still smiling as she rattles it off.

“I’m gonna send this to them, okay?”

“Okay!” She beams at him, leans in and gives him a quick hug before skipping back to her table. Julian watches her go, a small, fond smile on his face.

Logan knows he’s staring, but he really can’t help himself. Julian had seemed to become a whole different person. It’s almost fascinating to watch.

He’s brought back to reality when their waitress returns, sets two massive burgers on the table in front of them.

“Fuck yes,” Julian breathes, immediately leaning forward to dig into his food.

Logan rolls his eyes, picks up his own burger and attempts to eat it with a little more dignity.

It _is_ ridiculously good, he has to admit — they’re totally silent as they devour their meal, the only sound the occasional rustle of a napkin.

When Julian’s done he leans back, rests his hands happily on his stomach.

“Okay,” he says, “I’m good. I won’t complain for the rest of the day, I promise.”

“That’s a hefty fucking promise.”

Julian just sticks out his tongue, flags down their waitress and hands her a handful of bills with a flippant _keep the change_.

She takes the money gratefully, thanks Julian for what’s likely a _very_ generous tip.

“You done?” He asks Logan, eyeing the single bite still left in front of him.

Logan’s actually full, if he’s being honest, but he knows Julian wants the rest of his burger and can’t help the urge to be petty. He grabs the rest of his food between two fingers, shoves it into his mouth and loudly smacks his lips as he chews it.

“Oh my god, you’re a dick.”

He laughs, wipes his hands on a napkin and stands.

“Come on, primadonna, I gave you your half hour.”

He reaches for Julian, takes him by the arm and pulls him back to the car.

When they get back to Logan’s apartment, he shoves Julian toward the couch, grabs the remote and tosses it at home.

“Think you can entertain yourself for half an hour?” He asks, “ _Someone_ dragged me out of bed without giving me time to shower.”

“Oh,” Julian wrinkles his nose, “Is that what smells so bad?”

“Fuck you.”

Julian just laughs, sprawls across the cushions as Logan walks away.

He knows there’s nothing to worry about, really, but he still leaves the bathroom door cracked; just in case something happens, he needs to be able to get to Julian quickly.

He’s just finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair when he hears it: the quiet tinkling of piano keys, a little tentative.He smiles a little, recognizes the tune and hums softly along. When he shuts off the water, he hears Julian’s voice, even quieter than the music.

“ _…all I’ve seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes and freckles and your smile in the back of my mind making me feel like…I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now…”_

Logan keeps quiet as he towels off, pads into the bedroom and digs a pair of sweats out of his closet. He can still hear Julian’s voice as he dresses, steps out quietly and leans against the wall, watching.

Julian obviously doesn’t quite feel comfortable with the piano — he’s only got one hand on the keys, is clumsily tapping out just the melody and singing along. He hesitates a little, and Logan moves forward, slides onto the bench beside him. Julian looks a little started, but just pulls his hands away and lets Logan take over. He picks up where Julian had left off, adds his own voice to the mix.

 

_“And all my walls stood tall painted blue_

_but I’ll take ‘em down, take ‘em down, and open up the door for you…_ ”

 

He almost thinks he’s embarrassed Julian into stopping, but the actor starts again quietly, leading up to the chorus.

 

_“Cause all I know is we said hello_

_and your eyes look like coming home_

_All I know is a simple name_

_everything has changed_

 

_All I know is you held the door_

_You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours_

_All I know since yesterday is_

_everything has changed.”_

 

When they get to the end, Julian laughs a little breathily, looks down and grazes his fingers over the keyboard.

“Sorry,” he says, “I uh…I didn’t know you’d be able to hear. I can’t _actually_ play.”

“It’s not that hard. I could teach you, if you want?”

“…no. I should stick to acting, probably. I think singing’s the only thing I’d be decent at.”

“You’re more than decent,” Logan says, “I’d listen to your music.”

Julian looks a little embarrassed about that.

“I don’t know. I’m probably not even good enough to warrant a whole album. I’m not sure why I’m trying so hard.”

“Trying for the triple threat? Acting, singing, producing?”

“Maybe.”

He looks a little thoughtful, and Logan knows there’s something _more_ , there.

“You know,” he says, turning to face the other man, “I think I’ve proven that I’m at least kind of trustworthy. Plus Carmen made me sign an NDA. Three of them, actually. So if you want to talk about anything, I’m not actually legally allowed to tell anyone.”

Julian gives him a small smile, bites his lip and stares down at his hands.

“I just…I kinda thought that once I won an Oscar people would stop saying I only wound up where I am because of my parents.”

“…I kind of get that, I guess. I got compared to my dad a lot, in high school.”

“You still did something yourself, though. Your dad didn’t buy your way into being a celebrity bodyguard.”

“Oh hell no, he’d have a heart attack if he knew what I was doing.”

“Sometimes,” Julian takes a breath, “Sometimes I think that my parents might’ve, though. Like they just pushed me into enough things that people just…got used to me? Like maybe I’m not even that good, I’m just…familiar.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Julian looks up, looks almost _offended_.

“I don’t mean,” Logan huffs, makes a vague gesture, “Not like…you’re good at what you do, alright? I’ve seen you on set, you’re _really good_.”

“No offense, Logan, but you’re not an actor.”

“Music, then. When Carmen told me you had an album I assumed it’d be one of those over-produced pop disasters that Disney stars put out, you know?”

Julian narrows his eyes, “I’ve _never_ been on Disney. How _dare_ you.”

“Not the point. I didn’t think you’d actually be _good_. But you are. Really good. I wouldn’t have volunteered to play with you if you weren’t. I’ve been told I’m pretty pretentious with my taste in music.”

He almost gets a smile from Julian, “Well. Thanks, I guess. I just…sometimes feel like I’m letting people down.”

“You didn’t let me down.”

Julian raises an eyebrow, and Logan grins at him.

“You’re _exactly_ as much of a spoiled brat as I imagined.”

“Oh fuck you,” Julian’s grinning even as he swats at him, and Logan reflexively grabs at his wrist.

They both freeze at the contact. Julian’s eyes widen a little, and he looks to Logan.

Logan’s eyes flick briefly to Julian’s slightly-parted lips, back to his eyes, shining almost gold in the light.

“…Logan…”

He swallows, hard, releases Julian’s arm and slides backwards off the bench.

“I should call Carmen,” he says, “Ask if she has any updates, or anything.”

Julian’s quiet behind him. Logan keeps his back to him, grabs his phone from the counter and scrolls to Carmen’s number.

He hears Julian move, the soft sound of footsteps behind him as he waits for Carmen to pick up. His bedroom door creaks open, then shut, followed by the soft click of a lock.

He doesn’t see Julian for the rest of the night.


	10. you're a marked man, brother

When Logan wakes to the shrill sound of his phone going off, he nearly has a panic attack. He’s taken to leaving his ringer on even when he sleeps, just in case there’s some Julian-related news in the night. It’s been weeks since anything had happened; a month since the break-in, three weeks since Julian’s house had been considered safe enough for him to return to. They hadn’t had any threats since then, so the phone call sets his nerves on end.

He reaches for his new nightstand, fumbles in the dark until he grabs at his ringing phone.

“Yeah?” He mumbles into it, still-half asleep.

“Wright. I need you at the house _now_.”

He sits up, rubs at his eyes.

“Carmen?”

“ _Now_ , Wright.”

There’s a faint click as she hangs up, and Logan stares dumbly at his screen, blinking into the dim light as he tries to snap to attention. Carmen’s voice had been stern, and he’s a little worried about what has her calling at — _fuck_ — half past five in the morning.

It takes him a moment to come to his senses, but he rises from the bed, stumbles to his closet and grabs the first shirt he can find. He pulls on his clothes hastily, runs a comb through his hair, and hurries out of his apartment.

He’s behind his wheel in seconds, sends a quick text to Alex consisting of a single question mark. The other man’s response comes in seconds later.

 _Just get here. Fast_.

It worries him — Julian’s new security system is state-of-the-art. The company had insisted that there were no vulnerabilities to speak of. There was a backup for the backup, a secondary generator meant to counteract any sabotaging of the power system. If there had been any sort of breech, alerts would have immediately gone out to Carmen, Alex, Logan, and the local police department.

He wonders if something else had happened. Maybe Julian had broken protocol, had left his house unaccompanied and gotten himself in trouble. He hopes that’s not the case. Julian had _promised_ he’d be smarter about things, had finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

When he pulls up to Julian’s house, there’s no cop cars or flashing lights. _A good sign_ , Logan thinks. Alex’s car is parked outside, as is Carmen’s, and when he steps inside he hears Alex arguing with a very confused-sounding Julian.

“…just go back to bed, Julian, please, I’m sure you’re tired,” Alex is saying.

“You guys can’t wake me up looking panicked and not tell me what’s going on,” Julian argues, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, really, we just have some new security procedures to go over.”

“At six in the morning?” Julian turns to Logan, “Do _you_ know what’s going on?”

“I just got here, don’t look at me.”

“Please,” Alex tries again, “Just go back to bed.”

“Tell me!”

Alex sighs and turns to call into the adjoining room, “Carmen? Please don’t make me do this.”

For once, Julian’s manager isn’t preceded by the tell-tale signs of clicking stilettos. She walks into the room in just her stockings, the tailored dress hanging off her shoulders a little wrinkled. Her hair is gathered into a messy heap on the top of her head, and she looks absolutely _exhausted_. She finishes typing something in her phone and looks up.

“Carmen,” Julian says, “What the hell is going on?”

She gives him a tight smile, drifts over, and places a gentle hand on his arm.

“Sit down,” she says softly, leading him to the sofa, “You too, Wright.”

Logan glances worriedly at Alex before perching on the arm of the sofa, just inches from Julian. Carmen rubs at her temple before taking a deep breath and leaning forward.

“There was an…incident, late last night,” she says, slowly, “Another threat.”

Julian frowns at her, “Okay? Like an attempted break-in, or a letter…? I've been here all night, I haven't heard anything.”

“A more…direct threat,” Carmen says, “Last night…Julian…last night, someone shot Liam.”

Well.  _That_ isn't what Logan had expected.

He looks over at Alex, who just looks grim. He's obviously heard the news already. 

Liam had been  _shot_.

“What?” Julian stares at Carmen, “But he…why? That doesn’t make _sense_.”

“There was a note,” Alex adds, quietly, “Left on his door, apparently.  _You don’t deserve to touch him_.”

Julian stills, and Carmen leans forward.

“Julian, I have to ask, and I'm very sorry about this, but…were you sleeping with him?”

“I…" Julian looks between the three of them, "Maybe. Once or twice.”

She doesn’t look even a little surprised by that, “Who knew?”

“I don’t know,” Julian says, looking even more confused, “I mean it wasn’t…I wasn’t _advertising_ it, or anything. It was just when…when I couldn’t find someone else.”

“But people saw?”

“…probably,” Julian admits, “I wasn’t exactly trying to…is he okay?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” she says softly, “One of his neighbors heard the gunshot and called the police, and they rushed him to the hospital..but that’s all we know, so far.”

Julian stands, walks a few feet away and hovers in the middle of the room, looking a little lost.

“You have to know this isn’t your fault,” Carmen continues, “I know that you—”

“I’m gonna go upstairs, I think,” Julian says thickly, “I need…I’m tired. I need to lie down.”

Carmen just nods, watches with worried eyes as Julian hurries up the stairs. She turns to Alex.

“Go check the cameras, would you?" she says, "Just in case.”

He nods and makes his way through the kitchen. Carmen stands.

“Come on, Wright. We have to discuss some things.”

He follows her through the house, glances briefly at the wall of screens in their newely-updated control center and sees Julian already curled up in his bed, blankets over his head.

“ _Is_ Liam okay?” He asks, once it’s just the three of them, “He’s not…he isn’t _dead_ , is he?”

“We don’t know,” Alex sounds mildly annoyed at his own lack of information, “We’re not…him and Nicky are friends, you know? Apparently she’s his emergency contact, so the hospital called her when he was admitted. But she hasn’t sent anyone an update in over an hour.”

“The letter came with a picture,” Carmen says, pulling it up on her phone and holding it out for him.

It’s a slightly blurry snap of a Polaroid in a plastic evidence bag. Logan has to squint to make out the image — it looks like Liam and Julian in front of the house, Liam’s arms around Julian’s waist and his face pressed against Julian’s neck.

“They were close by, to take this,” Logan says, frowning, “They must’ve been right on the street. Someone should've seen them.”

“We’re trying to figure out when it was taken,” Alex says, “If Chris or Lionel drove them that night. Maybe they saw something. Or maybe it was one of the nights Julian went out without telling anyone. We don't know."

“Well wouldn't Julian know? He was _there_ , after all.”

Carmen sucks in a breath, “I don’t want him to know about this. There’s enough going on now without it, I don’t want to scare him more than we need to. The pictures on set were bad enough.”

She squares her shoulders, crosses her arms over her chest and slips back into her normal, professional persona.

“The house should be perfectly safe. I've gone over the system with the security company a dozen times. There's no reason to think anything might happen. Still though, I want one of you with him today. Just in case."

"I'll do it," Logan offers, "Alex had him yesterday, and I don't have any plans. Besides, I'm sure Alex's wife wouldn’t be a huge fan of the idea. Especially with one of his bodyguards being _shot_ , and all.”

“Yeah," Alex looks away, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, "She uh, asked me to quit, actually.”

Carmen clicks her tongue, “So did Chris’s.”

The two men look up.

“I texted him and Lionel, too,” she says, looking so _tired_ , “Chris quit. It makes sense, of course — he never signed up for something this high-risk. He’s getting close to retirement age anyway. His family doesn’t like the idea of him working for someone who’s getting death threats.”

“So we lost Chris,” Alex says, “Liam, obviously. Are we bringing anyone new in?”

“No,” Carmen shakes her head, “For now…for now I want to keep this as small as possible. The film’s been put on hold, obviously. Travis said he can meet with Julian at the house to work on their project. All he has is the album…”

“You can’t take that from him,” Logan says quickly, “He’s…he doesn’t like being cooped up. At all.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Wright, I’m well aware of how Julian feels about not working.”

“Logan and I both carry,” Alex says, helpfully, “The studio has a guard at the door. We could have him dropped off right at the entrance. One of us will walk him inside. I’m sure we can manage to move him five feet without anything happening.”

Carmen nods, considering, “I don’t want the schedule to be consistent. We’ll schedule his time anonymously. But nowhere else. The studio and home. No late-night excursions to clubs. No mystery guests. If he tries to fight you on that let me know.”

"Well how long should it last?" Logan asks, “I mean, the police have to have a lead on something, right?”

“The only credible idea was your suggestion of Liam. Obviously that didn’t wind up being true.”

“I’m not gonna apologize for suspecting him,” Logan tells her, “I’m sorry he got hurt, really. But he gave Julian _drugs_.”

“Well it doesn’t matter now,” Alex says, “We just need to focus on keeping him safe. I've spent _hours_  going over all the footage we have saved.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing really helpful,” he says with sigh, “Someone cut power to the system the night of the break in. The only thing I could find was this.”

He clicks on a file, pulls up footage from a camera on the side of the house. It’s just a static picture for a moment, before a figure in all black steps into view. They’re wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a ball cap, dark gloves over their hands. They approach the wall of the house, bend down…and the feed goes dark.

“The security system was hooked up over there,” Alex says, “There was a backup generator, but it took it a few minutes to kick in. When it did…”

He fast-forwards through the black, presses play when the video crackles back to life. It’s quiet again, no sign of the hooded figure or anyone else.

“And that’s it,” Alex says, leaning back in his chair, “No face. I couldn’t tell you anything about them. I assume male, because they’re obviously pretty tall. But skin color, hair, identifying tattoos or scars? Not a clue.”

Carmen sighs, “Police still haven’t found any prints on the letters, either. No DNA evidence at all. We have nothing to go on.”

“What about his last stalker?” Logan asks, “He had one before, right? When he was a teenager?”

Carmen looks flummoxed, “That was _years_ ago. How did you even…no. It’s not him.”

“Are we sure? Do we know where he is?”

“He was a minor,” Carmen says, “We got a restraining order. Last I heard, his parents moved him across the country. But we haven’t had an issue with him since…”

“Still,” Alex presses, “It might be all we have.”

“…I’ll make some calls.”

Carmen types something into her tablet, looking very contemplative.

“How has he been? Emotionally?”

Alex and Logan share a look.

“…okay, I guess,” Logan says, “He won’t talk about it, obviously. But he seems okay.”

"Just tired," Alex adds, "Pretty much all the time."

“We can deal with tired,” Carmen says, nodding, “Let me know if any of that changes, though, would you?”

She starts gathering her things, glances up at the screen to check on Julian’s still-motionless figure.

“Let him rest, for now,” she says, “I cleared his schedule for the day. But hang around anyway, Wright. At least for a few hours.”

He nods at her as she leaves, and Logan glances at Alex.

“Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?” Alex says, “Liam getting shot.”

“…I really thought it was him.”

“Nah,” Alex makes a slight face, “He’s not the _best_ , yeah. But he’s not crazy. I don’t think he actually meant any harm.”

“He gave Julian _ecstasy_.”

“He would’ve gotten it somewhere else, if it hadn’t been Liam. Julian’s not exactly known for his self-preservation instincts.”

“He slept with him,” Logan protests, “More than once, apparently.”

“It’s unprofessional, yes,” Alex agrees, “But it’s not like Julian wasn’t consenting, you know? Besides, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I see the way you look at him.”

Logan scoffs, “I don’t…I’m _not…_ ”

“It’s fine,” Alex shrugs, “He’s an adult. Celebrities date their bodyguards all the time.”

“We aren’t dating.”

Alex side-eyes him a little, looking vaguely amused.

“We _aren’t_.”

“I’m just saying, _I_ wouldn’t have volunteered to let him live with me for a week.”

“I’m trying to keep him _safe._ ”

“Whatever you say, man,” Alex laughs a little, leans against the wall, “He wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass though, was he?”

“He bought me furniture. Said my apartment was hideous and he needed to fix it.”

Alex huffs out a laugh, “Sounds about right. Still though, it must have been weird. Having him in your space all the time.”

Logan thinks back to the night at the piano. Julian’s voice ringing through his apartment, his fingers hesitating over the notes of a song. His _smile_ , when Logan had sat beside him and placed his hands over the keys instead.

“He’s…he wasn’t that bad,” Logan says, “I think he was bored, being cooped up like that. But he really isn’t that bad.”

There’s a movement on-screen, and they watch as Julian shifts in bed, rolling over onto his other side. He stills again, one arm hanging off the side of the bed.

“…he’s not really okay, is he? He’s been weird, lately. For me, at least.”

“Me too. I don’t really know how he’s doing,” Logan says honestly, “I feel like he _shouldn’t_ be okay, you know? I don’t know how I would feel if it was me getting threats like this."

“If I’m being totally honest, it’s freaking _me_ the fuck out. I’ve never had a case this bad before. Never had someone actually get _shot_.”

“Yeah,” Logan sighs, “It’s…he’s not sleeping. At least, I don’t think he is. Did you notice the dark circles under his eyes?”

“Would you be sleeping? If someone was threatening you and _shooting_ people who touched you?”

“Probably not.”

He’s not sleeping _anyway_ , he doesn’t say.He’s still having those nightmares, each time he closes his eyes. He knows Julian is too. He’s looked increasingly more exhausted since the break-in, and Logan had heard him moving around at all hours of the night when he’d stayed with him. He _knows_ Julian’s suffering just as much as he is; if Logan’s still dreaming about death, the person who’s actually being threatened must be, too.

But Alex doesn’t need to know any of that.

They sit in silence for a little while, occasionally glancing over the rows of video feeds. Eventually, Alex glances down at his watch and sighs.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and go. But call if you need a break, alright?”

Logan just nods, shifting a little to let the man by. His eyes flick back over to the feed of Julian’s room. He can just barely make out Julian’s face, surrounded by the blankets — he looks to be awake, when Logan looks closely, his eyes slightly open and staring at the wall beside his bed. Logan’s fingers reach for his phone, and before he can talk himself out of it he’s typing out a message to Julian: _Try actually closing your eyes, I hear it helps with sleep_.

He sees Julian’s phone light up on the mattress, watches as Julian pulls it close and looks at the text. He scowls, raises his eyes to the camera and flips it off. Logan laughs a little, but Julian does actually curl up on his side again, lets his eyes flutter shut.

Logan’s eyes don’t leave the feed. Julian’s face is still a little tense, his hands clenching a bit too tight around the sheets.

Logan remembers what Carmen had said, earlier, about Julian not blaming himself. He _hopes_ it isn’t true, hopes Julian doesn’t think Liam getting shot was somehow his fault. He debates broaching the topic with Julian, later on today, but the chances of Julian actually fessing up to his feelings seems pretty low.

Though he _had_ started to open up a bit more, ever since the week he spent at Logan’s apartment.

Like that night, at the piano…

Logan’s mind drifts back to the memory, the image of Julian’s eyes darting down to Logan’s mouth, that pink tongue swiping across his own lips. How Julian had leaned in, just a little bit…and how Logan had pulled away, made up some ridiculous excuse about calling Carmen.

But the truth is, he _had_ wanted it. It scares him, how much he wanted it.

How _easy_ it would have been, to close that lingering space, to lean in just a little, press his lips to Julian’s…

What it could’ve lead to _after,_ if he had just let himself.

But he hadn’t.

He shakes the thought off, shifts a little in his chair to stave off the tightening in his jeans. He won’t think about Julian like that. He _can’t_.

So why can’t he stop _looking_ at him?

For nearly an hour, Logan just watches Julian’s sleeping form on camera. When his phone buzzes with an update from Carmen, he reads it quickly, then heads upstairs and knocks lightly on Julian’s door.

“I’m sleeping,” calls a muffled voice, and Logan steps inside.

“Carmen texted,” he says, and Julian sits up. His hair is mussed, his eyes a little red — like he’s been crying.

“Is Liam okay?” He asks.

“He’s out of surgery,” Logan says, “He’s still a little out of it, but the doctors say it looks good. Hate to tell you, but I don’t think he’ll be available for booty calls anytime soon.”

He means it to be a joke, something to lighten the mood just a little. But Julian just bites his lip and looks away, lost in thought.

“Look, Julian, do you want to…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“…alright,” Logan says, “Um…you wanna go back to sleep?”

“No,” Julian draws his knees to his chest, “I’m not tired.”

It’s a lie.

But Logan lets it go.

“How about we take your mind off things, alright? You have a shitload of frozen dinners in the kitchen. I could make ‘em all, put on a movie? I heard tearing apart other people’s acting is one of your favorite hobbies.”

“…yeah,” Julian nods, “That…that sounds nice.”

He drags himself out of bed, follows Logan downstairs. Logan leaves him in the living room, tosses a blanket Julian’s way as he makes his way into the kitchen. Julian’s freezer is ridiculously well-stocked, and Logan busies himself with heating up a selection of meals, gathering up a set of plates and cutlery before heading into the living room.

When he steps inside, he nearly drops all the food.

“Julian?”

Julian’s curled up on the edge of the couch, tears streaming down his face. His breath is coming in sharp gasps, his hands twisting in the oversized hoodie he’s wearing.

“Shit, Julian, what’s wrong?” Logan sets their meal down on the coffee table and drops down beside him, “Did something happen?”

Julian shakes his head, presses his face into one of his throw pillows. He seems unable to control himself right now, is still gasping for breath.

“Hey,” Logan says, reaching out to grasp at Julian’s hands, “Look at me, okay? Just breathe. Can you do that for me? I need you to breathe.”

It takes an agonizingly long time. He’s fairly certain Julian’s having a panic attack, tries to keep him focused on slowing his breathing. He just sits with him, squeezes his hands, murmurs softly to him.

“…it’s my fault,” Julian finally chokes out, “Liam. Daniel. _Clark_ getting threats. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Logan brings a hand up to squeeze at Julian’s shoulder, “You didn’t ask for some psychopath to start sending death threats. It’s not your fault.”

“It _feels_ like it is.”

“It’s not,” Logan insists, “I promise, okay? Nobody blames you.”

“I just…I’m _scared_ ,” Julian admits tearfully, “I’m really fucking scared.”

“I know. You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Julian looks up. His eyes are still red and watery, his lips swollen from trying to bite back the sound of his sobs. He leans in, and Logan’s breath catches for the briefest of moments.

But when Julian moves forward, it’s not to kiss him.

He leans his forehead against Logan’s shoulder, like he’s searching for comfort. Logan’s hands hover awkwardly in the air, finally settling on Julian’s back. He rubs slow circles into Julian’s skin, lets him catch his breath for a few minutes.

“I promise it’ll be okay. I told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“It’s everyone around me getting hurt. Who’s gonna keep them safe?”

“Hey,” Logan tangles his fingers in Julian’s hair, pulls until Julian’s looking up at him, “We’ll figure out who’s doing this. Carmen’s spending most of her time yelling at the LAPD. They’ll find this guy.”

Julian doesn’t look like he believes it.

“We’re _going_ to catch this guy, Julian. I promise.”

It still takes a while for Julian to fully calm down. Logan just stays close, lets Julian wipe his eyes on his shirt and continues carding his fingers through Julian’s hair. Eventually, Julian pulls away, clearing his throat like he hasn’t just been crying.

“I picked a movie,” he says, turning away, “It’s kind of indie, and you probably won’t like it, but I’ve been wanting to see it.”

“That’s fine,” Logan says, handing Julian a plate, “I’ve been told my taste in movies is too mainstream anyway. Maybe if I just memorize your critiques I can make myself sound cooler.”

Julian grabs the remote and presses play.

About ten minutes in, he starts to act a little more like himself. He scowls at a particular scene, launches into an absolute _tirade_ about the poor acting. Logan doesn’t understand most of it, to be honest, but he’s amused nonetheless.

“He got an Oscar nom for this, can you believe it?” Julian gestures at the screen with a fork, “For _this_. What bullshit.”

“He didn’t win, did he?”

“No,” Julian scoffs, “ _I_ did.”

He shoves another bite of mushroom ravioli in his mouth, and Logan just laughs.

They move from that movie to another, then a third.

“My mom’s in this one,” Julian says, “I haven’t seen it yet. If there’s a sex scene we’re turning it off.”

When he settles back onto the couch, Logan notices he’s sitting closer than he had before. They’ve long since finished their food, and Julian’s stretched out a little more. Their thighs are brushing, and Logan tries not to think about it too hard.

Midway through the movie, Julian’s head dips onto Logan’s shoulder. He looks down, sees Julian’s eyes half-closed. Logan just lets him rest, tries his best to stay still for the rest of the movie. When the credits roll, he gently shakes Julian awake.

“Hey,” he says, when Julian’s eyes flutter open, “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

He has to wrap an arm around Julian’s waist to heave him up, holds him steady as he stumbles upstairs to the bedroom. Julian collapses the moment he hits the bed, clings to the blankets and pulls them around himself. Logan turns to walk out, but stops at Julian’s quiet voice.

“Stay.”

He looks over his shoulder, sees Julian blinking tiredly at him.

“Stay,” he repeats, “I won’t…I won’t try anything. I just don’t wanna be alone.”

Logan can’t say no to that — Julian looks so vulnerable right now, is blinking up at Logan with tired, sad eyes. He flips off the light, climbs into bed and settles in.

They’re both quiet.

He assumes Julian’s fallen asleep; he’d looked so exhausted, had only half-woken up as Logan moved him from the living room to the bedroom. But then he shifts, rolls over and faces Logan. His hand moves slowly, creeps forward until the very tips of his fingers brush against Logan’s hand.

He stops there. Just barely touching Logan’s skin, just enough to remind himself that he’s not alone.

Slowly, Logan moves his own hand, twines his fingers through Julian’s and gives it the lightest of squeezes.

They sleep.


	11. you're toxic, I'm slippin' under

Julian’s stalker is fairly quiet, after the attack on Liam. The letters are still trickling in, vague threats and declarations of love popping up in the mailbox every few days. Carmen does her best to snag it all before Julian can see it, pulls Logan and Alex aside for quiet updates on the police investigation.

They still don’t have any promising leads. Carmen seems increasingly frustrated, Julian steadily more nervous. He’s been an obvious ball of anxiety, lately, keeps yo-yoing between snapping at anyone around him and locking himself in his bedroom to quietly break down.

He’s been a little better since Carmen signed off on him starting to work again. It’s slow, careful — Travis Armstrong has started to drop by Julian’s house to work on their movie, and Julian’s managed to get in a couple days at the recording studio. It’s a good thing, really. When not working, Julian is constantly restless, driving Logan and Alex insane with his demands to leave the house.

The schedule nowadays is a little more difficult. Liam’s obviously off their roster permanently, although the doctors had promised he would make a full recovery. Nicky had followed Chris’s example and quit, citing fear for her life and a desire to help Liam with his recovery process. Alex and Logan split the schedule as best they can, but Logan seems to wind up with longer hours. Unlike Alex, he doesn’t have a spouse and kids at home, nothing but a sad houseplant (another gift from Julian’s furniture-buying spree) to take care of.

Thankfully, with Julian’s lightened schedule, Logan isn’t expected to be up before dawn anymore. He savors the opportunity to sleep in, loves the days he isn’t expected to crawl out of bed until it’s nearly lunchtime.

Naturally, when he’s woken up at nine in the morning to the sound of someone attempting to beat down his door, he panics. He shoots straight up in bed, kicks off his blankets and slips off the bed. He grabs his handgun from his dresser, double-checks that it’s loaded and creeps through his apartment, stepping as quietly as possible.

The banging on his door doesn’t cease - in fact, it grows louder, and Logan steps forward, pressing his face to the peephole.

“Holy…what the _fuck_ ,” he throws open the door and shoots Derek Seigerson his angriest glare, “Are you _insane_?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, looking endlessly amused, “I’d make an ‘is that a gun or are you just happy to see me’ joke, but that’s _definitely_ a gun.”

“You can’t just sneak up on me like this! You _know_ the kind of bullshit situation I’m dealing with at work right now.”

Logan yanks him inside, clicks the safety of his gun on and sets it on the bookcase beside his door.

“I thought I’d scare you a little bit, I didn’t think you’d go all James Bond on me. Now come on you idiot, give me a hug already.”

He rolls his eyes, but holds his arms open, drawing Derek into a long, tight hug.

“I missed you, D, but you _suck_.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Derek grins and musses Logan’s hair, “Besides, I only got the vacation time approved yesterday.”

“Well you still should’ve told me,” Logan frowns, “I would’ve switched up the schedule, I have to head in at noon.”

Derek grimaces, “I’m assuming you wouldn’t be cleared to bring a friend in?”

“Carmen would probably shoot me if I even asked.”

“Well I’ll find a way to amuse myself,” Derek says, dropping his bag to the ground, “I’m sure I can find someone to keep me company while you babysit.”

“Still,” Logan says, “I haven’t seen you in _ages_ , I wish we could actually do something.”

“Well I took a week. I’m sure you’ll have at least a day off.”

Logan grins, clapping his friend on the back, “We can start with coffee? I got a little while until I need to leave.”

He heads to the kitchen, pushes him onto one of the stools Julian ordered for him and starts on a pot of strong coffee.

“Oh, I almost forgot — I brought breakfast,” Derek unzips his bag, pulls out a bright pink box and tosses it onto the counter, “Peanut-free, I checked.”

“Doughnuts?” Logan raises an eyebrow, “That doesn’t fit into your no-fat only-protein diet.”

“I’m on vacation,” Derek says, selecting a jelly-filled one, “And I’m assuming _your_ metabolism is still ridiculous. Seriously, I've still never met someone who can keep up abs as easy as you do.”

“You should meet Julian,” Logan slides Derek a mug of black coffee and grabs a doughnut, “So catch me up. Go.”

Derek rolls his eyes but starts talking, catches Logan up on his job and relationship status (or very depressing lack thereof), on Amanda’s recent soccer championship and the community football club he’d joined.

“Seriously though,” he says, well into his third pastry, “My boss is completely incompetent. His assistant and I do about ninety-five percent of his work, and _she’s_ starting maternity leave next month so it’s just gonna be me. I’m gonna destroy him, I think. Like make him totally show his ineptitude in front of the board, then swoop in and save the day. I’ll be VP in five years, tops.”

“Alright, D. Just try not to overwork yourself too hard. You remember that nervous breakdown you had junior year of college, right?”

Derek waves him off, “I’m _fine_. That was mostly just low blood sugar, or something. I got this. _You_ , on the other hand…”

“What about me?” Logan asks, sipping at his coffee.

“You spend what, fifty hours a week babysitting a bratty celebrity? And you _haven’t_ snapped yet?”

“I’m taking my meds, like a good boy,” he pointedly gestures at the pill bottle on his counter, “Besides, he’s really not that bad. He’s kinda fun, actually. Super snarky. Crazy talented. A total workaholic, you’d probably like him.”

Derek smirks a little over his mug, “Sounds like you _definitely_ like him.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me Wright, I’ve known you too long.”

“Fine,” Logan sighs and sets his mug down, “I…might… _maybe_ …have a little bit of a crush on him. A _small_ one.”

Derek slams his fist down on the table victoriously, “I fucking _knew_ it. I _knew_ you couldn’t spent that much time around a guy who looks like _that_ and not fall for him.”

“It’s not that,” Logan argues, “I mean, obviously he’s hot. But he’s…I don’t know. He’s interesting. It’s like he puts on this act for everyone, all the time. But the real him, it’s…he’s a lot more vulnerable than he lets on, y’know? And he’s kind of relaxed a little, lately and…I don’t know. I just like him. A _little_. I'll get over it, it's not a big deal.”

“So,” Derek smirks, “Have you boned yet?”

“Oh my god, you’re the _worst_.”

He balls up his napkin, tosses it at Derek’s head. Derek just laughs and bats it away.

“Well I wish I could meet him,” he says, “He doesn’t sound half-bad.”

“He’s not,” Logan glances down at his watch, “He _is_ , however, expecting me in half an hour. I gotta go.”

“That’s fine, I’ll just throw a party and trash your place.”

“Yeah, yeah, just leave the piano alone, alright?”

He heads to his room, pulls on fresh clothes and fixes his hair. Derek’s already sprawled across the sofa when he walks out, and Logan shoves at his legs.

“Get your shoes off my new furniture, you heathen. And feel free to make yourself useful; I haven’t had the chance to vacuum in a few days.”

“Just go make out with _Julian Larson_ already, would you?”

Logan flips him off as he heads out.

He _is_ in considerably better spirits on the drive to work, actually walks into Julian’s house _whistling_ before he sees the sour look on the actor’s face.

“I’m not allowed to film my actual movies,” Julian says, sulkily, “But apparently, I _have_ been cleared to do a shoot for _cologne_.”

“Is that what it is?” Logan glances down at his phones, “Carmen just sent me an address and a time.”

“I have _Oscars,”_ Julian says, “More than one. An Emmy. Golden Globes. I’m better than a _cologne ad_.”

Logan shrugs, “Maybe it’s just Carmen’s way of trying to keep you relevant? If you’re not filming anything, she’s probably worried about you being out of the spotlight.”

Julian looks mildly horrified, “Are you saying…am I _irrelevant_?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Oh my god,” Julian brings a hand to his face, “That…I’m irrelevant.”

“You’re not irrelevant.”

Julian just whimpers and buries his face in his hands, “This is the _worst_.”

“You’re getting death threats, Julian, don’t overreact.”

“You don’t understand,” Julian whines, “If I’m out of the public eye for like…a _month_ , it’ll totally derail my whole career. I’ve spent _two decades_ building this up, and now it’s gonna be ruined because some psychotic _asshole_ won’t leave me alone.”

“People have come back from worse,” Logan tries, “Robert Downey Jr went to jail, right? But then he became Iron Man.”

Julian just sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I’m just…it’s really fucking frustrating, you know? That my entire life gets put on hold because someone I’ve never met thinks they’re in love with me.”

“I promise, your career's gonna be fine. Just go get ready, princess.”

Julian sighs and pulls away, makes his way upstairs to change and grab his things.

Logan pulls out his phone, checks Lionel’s ETA. He pulls up just as Julian makes his way back downstairs.

“Ready?” He asks, and Julian nods. They head out, and Logan secures the system behind them, triple-checking that everything looks good before they slide into the car. Lionel’s frowning down at his GPS, glances back at Julian.

“The beach?” He asks, “Is this right?”

“Yep,” Julian sighs and slouches in his seat, “Yet another shoot where I’m just supposed to look pretty and prance about in the water.”

“Isn’t that the exact problem every female celebrity has?” Logan asks, smirking as he thinks of some of the ridiculous shoots Michelle had been subjected to.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Lionel clears his throat, “Would you like to stop for coffee first, Julian?”

“Yeah, actually,” Julian says, “That sounds good.”

“We’re already short on time,” Logan says, “You really wanna stop at a Starbucks beforehand?”

Julian gives him a rather bitchy side-eye, “It’s a _cologne ad_. I think they can wait ten minutes.”

Despite his insistence, he still makes a face when he sees the line of cars already waiting in the drive-thru.

“I can run in, if you’d like?” Lionel offers, “It might be quicker.”

“…yeah,” Julian says, “I want—”

“Venti four-shot iced latte with two pumps of white chocolate, two pumps of toffee nut, and two pumps of hazelnut. I know.”

Logan grimaces at the sheer amount of _sugar_ in that drink, “Could I get…”

But Lionel’s already out of the car, jogging inside to place Julian’s ridiculous order.

“You can have a few sips of mine, if you want,” Julian offers.

“I’m getting cavities just _thinking_ about that drink, so no thank you.”

“What, it’s good! It’s like dessert in drink form. Except there’s also a crazy amount of caffeine.”

“Uh huh,” Logan rolls his eyes, “You’re gonna give yourself diabetes or something, you know that right?”

“If I even live long enough for that.”

“Julian…”

“I use humor to cope, alright? Leave me alone.”

Logan just sighs, figures it’s easier to drop the conversation than argue with him. Before too long, Lionel’s headed back to the car with a cup of coffee and a small paper bag.

“Your coffee,” he says, handing Julian the cup, “and they had a new flavor of pound cake, if you’re hungry.”

Julian takes it with a grin, tearing the paper open. He’s already shoved a quarter of the pastry in his mouth when he looks to Logan, “You want some?”

“No, thanks,” Logan says with a slight wince, “I have a pretty strong peanut allergy. I’d have to do research and shit to see if I can eat that.”

“That sucks,” Julian says, shrugging and popping another bite of the cake into his mouth, “Because it’s fucking delicious.”

Lionel’s eyeing them through the rearview mirror, smiles a little as Julian devours the food.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Julian says, taking a small sip of his latte, “And thanks for not quitting like Chris. Alex drives like an old man and Logan here always plays dad music.”

“Aerosmith is not _dad_ _music_ ,” Logan argues, and Julian just laughs.

He slurps down the rest of his coffee as Lionel drives to the beach, actually takes the lid off once he’s done to lick at the rest of the whipped cream. Logan pulls a face at that, but Julian just flips him off.

Julian gets a little sulky when they make it to the beach.

“At least it’s a private beach,” Logan offers, “Safer. Not a ton of people to watch your shame.”

“I fucking _hate_ you,” Julian spits as he exits the car.

Logan just laughs, “Man, watching you sulk your way through this is _so_ worth having to leave Derek at home.”

Julian’s eyes narrow a little, “Derek? New boyfriend?”

“Why, Larson, you jealous?”

“Just think it’s a little weird,” Julian says, looking away, “You’ve never mentioned this guy, he’s obviously not _that_ important to you.”

“He’s one of the most important people in my life, actually,” Logan’s grinning now, “He’s been my best friend since I was a kid. My very, very _straight_ best friend. For the record.”

Julian just shrugs, “Why would I care if he’s straight? I don't care."

“No reason. He’s in town though. Surprised me with a visit, but didn’t think to have me clear my schedule beforehand.”

“Well if watching my shoot is _that_ painful, I’m sure Lionel wouldn’t mind taking over. Bet he’d _love_ watching me prance around shirtless and wet.”

Logan pulls a face, “So you _know_ he has a thing for you, then?”

“Please,” Julian scoffs, “ _Everyone_ has a thing for me. He’s just a little more obvious than most.”

He leads Logan down to the water, where a couple of makeshift tents are set up. There’s a dozen or so people running around, checking on the light and doing test shots.

“You know,” Julian says, “This is probably gonna take a few hours. You can invite him, so you’re not bored.”

“What, Lionel?”

Julian scowls, “Your _friend_ , I meant. Tell him I’m shooting with Emily Ratajkowski. If he’s really as straight as you claim, he’ll come running.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Logan asks, already sliding his hand into his pocket for his phone, “I mean, no offense, but I can only watch you run around posing for so long before it gets repetitive.”

“Go ahead, I’d love to grill this guy about what you were like as a kid.”

Julian grins before skipping off, bounding over to the photographer to get his directions for the shoot. He’s not wrong about Derek — the moment the words _Emily Rat-something_ leave Logan’s mouth, he hears Derek curse and snap out an “on my way”.

By the time he shows up and tracks Logan down, the photoshoot’s already underway. Julian’s changed into a pair of white linen shorts and a light blue shirt, totally unbuttoned to show off his tanned chest. Logan can’t take his eyes off him.

“Alright,” Derek says, from beside him, “I kinda get your crush. He’s pretty hot.”

Logan scowls at that, which makes Derek laugh.

“Easy, tiger,” he says, “I’m here for _her_. Don’t plan on making any moves on your man.”

“He’s not my _man_ ,” Logan grumbles, “He’s my _boss_.”

“Kinky.”

“Fuck off.”

They stand a little ways off from the shoot, well out of the way of scurrying assistants and photographers barking orders. Julian and his partner look remarkably comfortable despite being forced into awkward poses, and Julian’s bright smile never leaves his face. When they take a short break, Julian jogs back their way.

“Hey,” he says, bypassing Logan entirely, “You must be Derek. Logan didn’t tell me you were hot.”

“Oh? He told me you were.”

Logan’s eyes widen in warning, but Julian just laughs.

“I like you,” he says, and Derek grins.

“I’m the fun one in this friendship. I’m sure you’ve already realized Logan’s boring.”

“So boring,” Julian’s face morphs into faux-graveness, “I honestly don’t know how you’ve dealt with him for years.”

“Lots of suffering involved,” Derek says, “So much misery.”

“I regret this already,” Logan says, “This was a terrible idea, D, I should never have invited you.”

Someone summons Julian back to set, and he lays a hand on Derek’s arm, “You have to stay. I need to hear every embarrassing story you have, alright?”

Derek nods, “You got it, buddy.”

“Asshole,” Logan spits, once Julian’s run off again, “I can’t believe you.”

“What? You’re moving at a _glacial_ pace, I’m just trying to speed things along for you.”

“Yeah, by claiming I’m boring? Real effective.”

“Chill, it’s a _joke_. I promise I’ll talk you up next time he’s over.”

“Please don’t,” Logan winces, “Last time you tried to _talk me up_ you told a bartender I had a nice dick and a large bank account.”

“Still half true. Bet he doesn’t care much about how much money you have though, didn’t he get like eighteen mil for Nightwing? You know, that movie that gave you masturbation fodder for like, a year?”

“I will _literally_ kill you,” Logan says, “Slowly. Painfully. I’ll send your body to your parents in tiny pieces.”

“Dark.”

He lays off after that, a little distracted by the woman hanging off Julian’s arm. Logan watches too, can’t help but laugh when a wave catches Julian off-balance and nearly sends him reeling. He re-orients himself quick enough, manages to play the stumble off as a joking romp through the water.

They take photos for _three hours_ , and Logan can’t believe this much work is necessary for a single advertisement.

“I thought this’d be more fun,” Derek says after a while, “It’s kinda boring though, isn’t it?”

“The movie’s kinda the same,” Logan says, “Like, watching the first take is always pretty cool, but then they do the same scene over and over again, because one person fumbled a word or the lighting wasn’t perfect. I don’t understand how he does it.”

The photographer _finally_ wraps up the shoot, and Julian snatches an offered towel from one of the assistants, wrapping it firmly around his shoulders.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says, once he’s made his way back to Logan and Derek, “That water is _freezing_.I thought I was gonna die.”

“Well you looked hot,” Derek says, and Logan elbows him sharply.

“Thanks,” Julian says, smirking, “Emily’s right over there, if you wanna say hi. She’s pretty nice.”

Derek’s head swivels, and he doesn’t spare them another glance before swaggering her way.

“She’s also _married_ ,” Julian adds, after a beat, “Think I should’ve thrown that in?”

“Eh, he’ll figure it out.”

Logan looks down at Julian, who’s shivering a little despite the towel around his shoulders. He pulls his own jacket off his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, tugging at the towel and the soaked shirt Julian’s wearing, “Try this instead.”

Julian lets him peel the wet shirt off of him, slips into Logan’s jacket gratefully.

“Thanks,” he says, smiling, “You can be pretty sweet when you wanna be.”

“I’m always sweet. You’re just usually an asshole who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Careful, Wright,” Julian grins, “Don’t forget who signs your paychecks.”

“Carmen. Carmen signs my paychecks. And I’d never call her an asshole, she terrifies me.”

He reaches forward, buttons his jacket over Julian’s chest. His fingers brush against Julian’s bare skin, and he feels the other man shiver.

“Oh man,” Derek suddenly says from beside them, “I’m totally interrupting a moment, aren’t I?”

Logan draws his hand back, turns to Derek with a scowl.

“We were _not_ having a moment.”

“I don’t know,” Julian shifts a little, “I was kinda having a moment.”

“See?” Derek sighs, “Totally interrupted a moment. Should I walk away, give you a few minutes?”

“It’s fine,” Julian says, “I should probably head home anyway.”

“Oh man, I haven’t even told you all my good stories yet,” Derek says, “We should go out, I’m sure you have great recommendations on clubs.”

Julian’s smile wavers, “I’m not really allowed to go out anymore. Safety shit. Pretty sure Logan would have an aneurysm if I tried.”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely not gonna happen,” Logan says, “I’m under very strict orders to keep you to just work and home.”

“That sounds dull,” Derek frowns, “You’re not allowed to have fun at _all_?”

“Nope. None.”

“It’s just until we find this guy,” Logan says, “Which’ll be soon, I’m sure. Then you can go back to partying as often as you want.”

“It better be soon. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid?”

“Well Logan could help you with that,” Derek says brightly, clapping Logan on the back, “I’ve heard great reviews, really. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Body. To your parents. _Tiny_ pieces.”

Julian just laughs and swipes Derek’s phone, sending a text to himself.

“I’ll send you bar recommendations,” he says, “Try to force Logan to have some fun, alright? One of us needs to.”

“I’m technically on the clock until midnight,” Logan says, a little unsure, “Just in case—”

“In case what? I get a late night craving for In-N-Out? I promise, I’ll stay locked up at home alone and miserable. Go have fun tonight, seriously.”

“Yeah,” Logan finally acquiesces, “Yeah, okay. I still have to go get my car from your place, but D, I’ll meet you at my apartment in a couple hours?”

“Perfect. Bless you, Larson.”

Derek kisses him on the cheek before bounding back to his rental car, already way too excited about the prospect of a night on the town.

“He’s nice,”Julian declares, “I like him.”

“Figured you would. You’re both crazy workaholics.”

“Hard to be a workaholic when I can barely _work_.”

“What was today then, hm?”

Julian looks up at him, “ _Cold_. So, so cold.”

Logan laughs, holds the car door open for Julian before sliding in himself. Lionel glances back at them, raises his eyebrow at the too-big jacket Julian’s wearing.

“There’s a blanket in the trunk, if you need it.”

“I’m comfy, actually. Could you just turn the heat up a little?”

He settles into his seat, pulls out his phone and stays quiet for the drive. Logan glances over at one point, recognizes _Derek’s_ number at the top of Julian’s open text and hope to every god he knows of that his friend isn’t actually sharing his most embarrassing stories.

Julian doesn’t even let him inside the house once they get back.

“ _Go_ ,” he insists, “Seriously, you better still be hungover next time I see you. I promise I won’t leave the house, okay?”

“Just get inside,” Logan says, “Let me lock up, at least.”

Julian rolls his eyes but heads inside, lets Logan set the alarm and lock the front door.

Derek’s already ready to go by the time Logan makes it home, obviously antsy and ready to get out.

“I picked out an outfit for you,” he says, the second Logan steps inside, “On your bed. Julian put us on a _list_ , he’s my fucking hero.”

“Of course he is,” Logan rolls his eyes, passes Derek and checks out the outfit he left. It’s surprisingly well-coordinated — for a straight guy, Derek’s always had a pretty good sense of style. He pulls on the clothes, takes his time arranging his hair and spritzes on a little extra cologne. He looks _good_ , smirks a little at his own reflection and strides back into the living room. Derek’s on his phone when he walks in, grins when he gets a look at Logan. He lifts his phone and snaps a picture.

“You better not be sending that to _my boss_ ,” Logan says, grabbing his wallet from the counter.

“Don’t worry about what I’m doing,” Derek responds, shoving his phone into his pocket and rising to his feet, “Now come _on_ , we're gonna have some serious fun tonight.”


	12. quit playing games with my heart

Logan’s head is _throbbing_ when he wakes up the next morning. His mouth is dry, the lingering taste of alcohol making his stomach churn uncomfortably. He cracks his eyes open, groans aloud when the morning light burns his eyes.

“Shhhhh,” says a male voice beside him. Logan feels his heart clench in his chest a little, takes a deep breath and steers himself before he looks over.

To his immense relief, it’s Derek beside him, still fully clothed with shoes and all. He only has murky memories of last night, but he can still taste alcohol and smell regret. They’d obviously both left without companions for the night — surprising, considering Derek’s track record.

He rolls over, sees his phone resting beside his pillowand picks it up.

_JulesLarson took a screenshot!_

_JulesLarson took a screenshot!_

_JulesLarson took a screenshot!_

_JulesLarson took a screenshot!_

“Fuck,” he breathes, and Derek groans beside him.

“No noise,” he complains, pulling the blankets over his face, “More sleep.”

“I Snapchatted Julian last night.”

There’s a moment of silence, then a faint peal of laughter from under the blankets.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Derek says, “I’m pretty sure you Snapchatted him a _lot_.”

“I don’t even _have_ Snapchat!”

“You downloaded it. Asked if I thought Julian would like your outfit, and didn’t believe me when I said yes.”

“I did _what?!_ ”

Derek sighs, unearths himself from his pile of blankets and forces himself to sit up.

“Go make coffee,” he says, rubbing at his eyes, “I’m gonna go shower and probably throw up, then we can figure out what you did.”

He stumbles to the bathroom, and Logan struggles to get himself out of bed. His phone is still clenched in his hand, the Snapchat notifications shining up at him, almost taunting. The coffee maker seems unreasonably hard to work with, for some reason, and Logan nearly breaks the damn thing in his attempts to start it. When he finally gets the coffee percolating, he dumps half a box of cereal and the rest of his milk into a bowl and chows down. He’s never really all that hungry after a night of drinking, but he hopes the food will settle his stomach before he has to go into work today.

Work. With _Julian_.

He looks back at his phone, sees the Snapchat notifications still plastered across the screen. He slides his finger across them, hoping there’s _something_ that’ll give him an idea as to what he sent. But of course he’s not _that_ lucky — Julian doesn’t seem to have responded, and Logan didn’t save any of the Snaps or post to his story.

“Okay,” Derek declares when he walks in, a thick robe tied around his waist, “I think I remember the beginning of the Snapchatting.”

“You don’t have to say it, I’m sure I humiliated myself.”

Logan pours out a cup of coffee, sliding it across the counter to Derek, who takes a long sip before continuing.

“I tried to convince you to flirt with people,” he says, “You were bitching about how none of them were attractive enough, and I told you it’s just because you’re hung up on Julian.”

“I’m just _picky_ , it’s not a bad thing.”

“Well that’s when you downloaded it. You said you wanted to ask Julian if he’d be interested if he saw you in a bar.”

“Oh _god_ ,” Logan moans. He briefly debates drowning himself in his cereal bowl.

“You took _so_ many selfies.”

“Please kill me.”

“I’m _mostly_ sure I stopped you from taking a dick pic, if it helps?”

“Fantastic. I humiliated myself, but at least my boss hasn’t seen my penis.”

Derek smirks, “Shame. It’s probably your one redeeming feature.”

“I have to _see him_ today! I have to be at work in…” he checks his watch, “Fuck, two hours.”

“Well sober up, buttercup, you’re gonna have some fun conversations.”

“Think I should start drafting a resignation letter?”

“I think you should bring condoms to work with you.”

Logan fixes Derek with his best glare, though he’s sure the effect is somewhat lessened by how disgusting he looks right now.

“Seriously. He was totally flirting yesterday. He looks interested.”

“That’s the thing, though. He’s just kind of like that. He flirts with everyone, how am I supposed to know if he’s _actually_ into me?”

“Here’s a wild thought — you could just _ask_.”

“I’m not gonna ask my boss if he has a crush on me, that’s pathetic.”

“Hate to tell you, buddy, but _you’re_ a little pathetic.”

“Alright, _buddy_ , lay off,” Logan downs the rest of his coffee, forces himself to his feet, “My turn to shower. No puking in my kitchen, please.”

“No promises!”

Thankfully, showering does wonders for Logan’s hangover. He still has a bit of a headache, but that’s nothing a little ibuprofen won’t fix. Brushing his teeth gets rid of the sour taste in his mouth, and he finally starts to feel like an actual person.

He pulls on clothes and makes his way back into the living room, throws himself on the sofa and picks up his phone again.

“I didn’t text him,” he tells Derek, “I didn’t call. Tweet. Fucking _Instagram_. Drunk me picked the one way of communication that keeps me from figuring out what I said.”

“Yeah. Drunk you is kind of an asshole. You’re the reason I wound up in bed with _you_ instead of a girl.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep. You told her she wasn’t as pretty as the _Emily girl_ I was talking to earlier.”

Logan can’t help but snort at that, and Derek scowls.

“She was _hot_. I hate you.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure I _won’t_.”

“Please, I know you texted Julian embarrassing stories about me. We’re even.”

“I used tame ones, don’t worry.”

Logan just sighs, scooting over a little when Derek moves to join him. He leans against the other man’s shoulder.

“I have _no_ idea what to say to him.”

“I guess just wait and see what he says first? Maybe he just thought it was funny.”

“Yeah,” Logan nods, “He probably would. I bet I just took really bad selfies, you know? He probably just saved them to make fun of me.”

“It’s funny how him saving them for blackmail is the best option.”

“The best option would’ve been me not doing it, but no luck there.”

Derek just pats his head, “It’s okay. If he hates you and fires you, you can just come live with me. Be my butler, or something.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to?”

“Damnit,” Logan stands, searches the apartment for his wallet and keys. He finally finds them under his goddamn _pillow_ , for some reason, and smacks Derek over the head before he heads out.

The drive to Julian’s house seems to take twice as long as normal. Logan’s not sure if his stomachache is due to the hangover or his nerves. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, takes a deep breath when he finally pulls into Julian’s driveway.

Julian opens the door before Logan can.

“Morning,” he says brightly, a wide grin on his face, “Fun night?”

“…Julian, look…”

“Come in. I have a hangover cure ready.”

“You…I’m sorry, you what?”

“Well I need you at your best, don’t I? My dad’s coming over any minute, so you’ll have a few hours to chill, but then there’s a radio interview this afternoon. Downtown’s always kind of sketch, I need you keeping people away from me.”

He strolls into the kitchen, Logan at his heels. There’s a pale pink glass of _something_ on the counter, and Julian presses it into Logan’s hands.

“Drink,” he orders, “I have a sausage pizza in the oven, too. That should help.”

Logan picks up the glass and sniffs, “What is this, exactly?”

“Pedialyte,” he says, “With a shot of vodka. Trust me.”

“Isn’t this for kids?”

“If you wanna see the pictures you sent me, you’ll drink it.”

Logan sighs, downs the glass in a few gulps. It’s not _bad_ , really — a little fruity, and he can’t really taste the vodka. Julian looks pleased, takes the glass from Logan’s hand and leaves it in the sink.

“It works quick,” he says, “Your headache’ll be gone in an hour, max.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Filming with a hangover sucks. I spent years testing out different hangover cures, and this one’s a miracle.”

“Well thanks, then.”

Julian smiles and leans up against his counter, “So. The Snapchats.”

“Scale of one to ten, how embarrassed should I be?”

“They weren’t that bad,” Julian pulls his phone out of his pocket and tosses it Logan’s way, “Password’s the same as my iPad.”

Logan types in the code and opens Julian’s photo album, wincing at the chain of pictures of his own face.

“They were kind of cute, actually,” Julian says as Logan looks through them, “Complaining that nobody in that bar was hot enough for you. That you wasted a great outfit on people who didn’t appreciate it. You should’ve been more concerned about what your little friend sent, actually.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Oh, so you found them.”

“I’m going to _kill_ him.”

It’s actually a _good_ picture of Logan, if he ignores the caption. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, his hair coming free from the gel a little. He’s leaning up against the bar, hand loosely holding onto a glass of amber liquid.

But the goddamn _caption_.

_Tihs is my best frend Logan he thinks ur prettty and wantsto touch ur butt_

“I hope he’s a better speller when he’s sober,” Julian says, laughing at the expression on Logan’s face, “He texted me a couple times too, but I honestly have no idea what he was trying to say. I’m pretty sure one of them was meant to be bragging about _your_ dick size but then he ended with saying he’s bigger.”

“ _Kill him_ ,” Logan repeats, “Slowly. Painfully. I’ll enjoy it.”

“Hey, it was cute. I’m glad you guys had fun.”

“I think we did? I don’t actually remember.”

“Which means you _definitely_ had fun.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t send you anything too embarrassing. Waking up to those screenshot notifications kinda gave me a heart attack.”

“Why?” Julian tilts his head to the side, smirking, “Is there something embarrassing you have to tell me?”

“No.”

“Well then why would you be worried?”

Logan’s thankfully saved from answering by the sound of his doorbell ringing.

“I’ll just get that for you, then?”

He heads out down the hall, peers through the peephole just to be safe and lets Julian’s dad in.

“Mr Armstrong. Julian’s in the kitchen.”

Travis nods slightly at him and slips through the door without a word. Logan tries not to roll his eyes at the way he’s been brushed off and secures the door, moving through the house to the same camera-filled room he spends all his time in.

He spends some time scrolling through last night’s footage on fast-forward, finds the time Alex left and checks to make sure nothing sketchy happened through the night. He watches Julian putter around the house for a while, fixing himself a drink — _pink wine_ , of all things — and reading over scripts. There’s a point where Julian picks up his phone and _cackles_ , and Logan knows it’s the first picture he’d sent. He moves to his bedroom not long after, and Logan switches to the outdoor camera feeds. There’s nothing suspicious there, either, unless he counts the stray cat wandering around Julian’s backyard.

The live feeds aren’t interesting, either. He watches a leaf blow across the front yard, smirks when a bird shits on Travis’s windshield.

That’s about the time the fighting starts.

“It’s _my movie_ , dad!” Logan hears from the other room, “I only picked you to direct because I thought you’d actually work with me!”

“You picked me because I’m _good_ ,” Travis says, sounding remarkably like a parent scolding an upset toddler, “You’ve never done something like this before, you don’t know how it works.”

“So _teach me_. That’s the whole goddamn point!”

“Look, Julian. Maybe this isn’t the best time for something like this. It’s not a good idea for you to come to set, so you can’t observe from there—“

“So, what, I get a producing credit just for picking the script? I don’t want to be a _joke_ , dad, I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Julian, calm down.”

“Stop treating me like a child!”

“Stop acting like one!”

There’s a bang from the other room, and Logan glances through the door just as Julian storms out of the room and up the stairs. Travis sighs heavily, scrubs one hand across his face and starts gathering his things.

He glances up when Logan enters the room, “Julian’s upstairs, I believe.”

“I know. I saw.”

“Is he this difficult with you, too?” Travis asks as he shoves his things into a messenger bag, “The temper tantrums and everything?”

“He’s stressed,” Logan says, trying to keep his voice even, “This stalker thing is taking a lot out of him. He really cares about this project. He fought Carmen to let him keep working on it.”

“He has no idea what he’s gotten into. He’s not ready for something like this.”

“He could be. If you worked with him instead of talking over him."

It’s a step too far, he knows. But Logan’s having vivid flashbacks of arguments with his own father, and he knows how important this movie is to Julian. It’s not _fair_ , for Travis to accuse Julian of not trying enough, to take over a project he’s so obviously passionate about.

“Tell me, Mr….”

“Wright. Logan Wright.”

“Mr. Wright, then. Were you hired to pick arguments?”

“No sir.”

“Then I suggest you don’t,” Travis throws his bag over his shoulder and fixes Logan with a very Julian-like scowl, “You don’t understand this business, Wright. I do. My son does. He knows I’m trying to make him _better_.”

“Does he? Or does he just think he isn’t good enough to meet your expectations?”

The scowl falters just a little, but Travis just pushes past Logan and heads for the door. He hears it open and shut, followed moments later by the sound of an engine starting.

It’s a good thing it had been _Dolce_ who hired him, he thinks. At least he knows he probably won’t lose his job after that altercation.

He locks the door and heads upstairs, knocks lightly on Julian’s bedroom door.

“Julian?” He calls, “Your uh…your dad just left, if you wanna come back downstairs.”

When Julian doesn’t answer he knocks again, a little louder.

“Julian. You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Logan lets himself in anyway. Julian’s laying sideways across his bed head buried in his arms.

“I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” he says, “You suck at listening.”

“ _You_ suck at dealing with your emotions like a normal person. But for the record, I’m on your side here.”

He leans back against the wall, watches Julian shift a little on the bed.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Julian asks abruptly, lifting his head from his arms. Logan hesitates.

“This…kind of feels like a leading question?”

“It’s not. Yes or no. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m a _child_?”

“I think…you can be immature, sometimes. But I guess we all are.”

Julian looks a little upset by that, and Logan continues, “Not with work, though. You’re probably one of the most professional people I know.”

“Then how come my parents still treat me like I’m some dumb kid who can’t handle things?”

“Because they’re your parents. I think that’s kind of their job.”

“Isn’t that kind of hypocritical? You moved across the fucking country to get away from yours.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“My dad and I…it wasn’t a _work_ disagreement. He just doesn’t like me, I’m pretty sure. It felt like everything I did was wrong, all the time. _Your_ parents at least care about you. Your mom hired all of us to watch you. Carmen says your dad asks her for updates all the time.”

“They have to _care_ ,” Julian scoffs, “They’re my _parents_.”

“Well, not all parents do.”

Julian looks a little curious at that, “Do _you_ wanna talk about something?”

“Don’t worry, I’m long over the whole shitty parent situation. Derek’s a decent therapist.”

“You’re not bad either.”

“Seriously?” Logan raises an eyebrow, “You don’t even _talk_ most of the time, you just get mad at me for asking.”

“Sometimes it’s just nice feeling like someone cares.”

“I do. Care.”

Their eyes meet. Julian’s smiling softly, and a part of Logan — a big part of him — wants to kiss that smile.

Of course, Julian ruins _that_ the next time he opens his mouth.

“I know you care,” he says, grinning a little, “You think I’m cute and you want to touch my butt.”

“Fucking hell,” Logan groans, turning away, “Would you just get ready? We have a radio interview to get you to.”

“For the record,” Julian yells after him, “I’d _totally_ let you touch my butt!”

The radio interview is boring.

Not for Julian, probably. But Logan gets exiled from the sound booth — _extra noises are distracting, you’re free to wait outside!_ — and winds up slouched against a wall in the hallway, playing some ridiculous cat game on his phone.

When Julian exists the room, he’s in a considerably better mood.

“They actually had _good questions_ for once,” he says with a grin, “Usually radio interviews are so shallow, you know? But they asked about my album, and why I pick roles I do, and it was _nice_.”

Logan smiles and takes his position at Julian’s side as they walk out together.

“So no shallow questions?”

“Oh, there was,” Julian smirks, “They asked about my love life. I said I’m having a torrid affair with my incredibly attractive bodyguard.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I absolutely did. You and Alex can argue over which one of you it is.”

“Alex is _married_. He has _kids_.”

“That would certainly be a torrid affair, wouldn’t it?”

Logan rolls his eyes, shoves at Julian’s arm when he bats his eyelashes up at him.

“You’re absolutely impossible.”

Julian blows a kiss as he lets himself into the car. Logan follows, nodding at a rather annoyed-looking Lionel.

“I listened to your interview,” he says, and Julian laughs.

“Yeah? Hope I didn’t bore you talking about how much I hate doing roles where the characters have no depth.”

“I liked it,” Lionel says, “They don’t usually ask you decent questions in those interviews.”

“That’s what _I_ said. It’s always all about my sex life and what hot celebrities I’m dating.”

“Or bodyguards?” Logan doesn’t miss the _look_ Lionel sends him, annoyance mixed with mild jealously.

Julian cracks up at that, leaning into Logan and grinning.

“I _told you_ I actually said it.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what your Snapchats said.”

Lionel clears his throat, “Is there anywhere you’d like to go, Julian?”

“Nowhere I’m _allowed_ , as much as I’d kill for a night out. Just home, I guess.”

“Are you sure? You must be hungry.”

“ _Home_ , Lionel.”

He leans back in his seat, spreads out just enough that his knee brushes against Logan’s leg. He doesn’t move, and when he looks over a few moments later, Julian’s gazing at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He turns away when Logan meets his eyes, stares out the window instead. Logan can’t seem to tear his own eyes away.

He doesn’t _want_ to.

The rest of the drive is mostly quiet. Lionel tries, once or twice, to ask about Julian’s interview. But when Julian gives only short, disinterested responses, he gives up, turning the radio up instead.

Even the trek into the house is quiet. There’s an odd, underlying tension between them that Logan doesn’t quite know what to do with.

He clears his throat when they step inside, “I’m gonna go check the security footage. Just to be safe.”

“Okay. I’m gonna…go change.”

He disappears upstairs, and Logan lets out a breath.

This is Derek’s fault, he decides.

These _feelings_ , this ridiculous crush he has on Julian, he’d had it totally under control. But then _Derek_ just had to goad him about it, hint about it to Julian, encourage him to drink and _Snapchat_. He would’ve been fine if it weren’t for him, really.

Probably.

He’s a little on edge, going through the footage. He pointedly ignores the feed of Julian’s room, scrolls through the past couple hours of footage captured from the outdoor cameras. By the time Julian makes his way back downstairs, Logan’s already gone through the feeds.

“Hey,” Julian says softly, leaning against the doorway, “Um…look, you don’t have to stick around. Your friend’s in town. I’m sure you’d much rather be hanging out with him than bored out of your mind here.”

“I’m not _bored_ here.”

“Please. I’ve been alone in this house long enough, I know how much it sucks.”

He twirls away, and Logan watches as he rummages through his freezer and pulls out a frozen lasagna, frowning down at the directions on the box. Logan stands, makes his way into the kitchen and stares at him.

“…is this what you do?” He asks, “Sit at home alone and eat frozen lasagna?”

“No,” Julian scoffs, “Sometimes it’s pizza.”

“Doesn’t that get kind of boring?”

“Unspeakably boring. But it’s kind of my life now. You heard Carmen. No parties. No guests.”

“But you have friends.”

“I have Clark. Who’s on tour with his band. And a string of people I hook up with, but I can’t really ask a booty call to come keep me company when I have a deranged stalker on the loose.”

“So you sit alone. With lasagna.”

“Or pizza.”

“Or pizza.”

Logan raises an eyebrow, and Julian sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Look, I know it’s fucking pathetic, okay? You don’t need to remind me. Just go have fun with your friend, so one of us isn’t miserable.”

“I don’t really like the idea of leaving you alone.”

“You’ve done it every other night.”

“I guess I didn’t really think about it.”

Julian laughs, turns away to preheat his oven, “Good to know you forget I exist the second you walk out that door.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No. I guess you _do_ think about my butt.”

Logan’s torn. He _does_ want to see Derek; he’s missed him, and he knows this visit won’t last forever. But he also hates the idea of leaving Julian alone here — he can’t believe it’s never crossed his mind before, that Julian’s had to deal with all the stress and fear of having a stalker and has nobody to keep him company at night.

“…what if Derek came over here?”

Julian turns around, looking perplexed.

“I know it’s not exactly the same as getting to go out. But he’s fun.”

Julian hesitates, “Don’t you think he’d have more fun going out somewhere? I know I’m hard enough to work for, I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“Trust me,” Logan says, “I don’t need a repeat of last night. I’m getting to old to party like that. We could just have a few beers here. Play Cards Against Humanity, or something.”

“…yeah,” Julian smiles a little, “I have another pizza, I think.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make him pick up some real food on the way.”

“I thought you said _some_ food,” Julian asks, an hour and a half later when Derek shows up at the door, “You did tell him it’s just us, right? I’m not hosting a whole party.”

“Logan didn’t tell me what you like,” Derek says, “and I couldn’t decide between Chinese and Mexican. So I got both. Also Italian. And Greek. You have booze, right?”

“I have plenty of booze, yeah.”

“Perfect.”

Derek shoves most of the food at Logan and follows Julian into the kitchen.

“I don’t work for _you_ , D!”

He’s ignored, of course, but he just rolls his eyes and follows, dumping the take-out containers onto Julian’s counter. While Derek and Julian are distracted by the contents of Julian’s liquor cabinet, Logan takes the opportunity to get first pick of the food. He’s already partway into his meal when Julian slides a glass across the counter with a smile.

“You’re a scotch sorta guy, right?”

“You remembered.”

“I do listen, occasionally.”

“Apparently.”

He takes the glass, sipping lightly at the amber liquid. Despite Julian’s aversion to the drink, he seems to have sprung for the good stuff. Logan’s impressed.

“Oh,” Derek says, fishing inside one of the bags for Logan’s _Cards Against Humanity_ set, “I brought this, too. Thanks for keeping it on the top fucking shelf of your closet, you asshole.”

“Not my fault you’re short.”

“ _Average_. I am _average_.”

Logan smirks, “Whatever you say, squirt.”

“We don’t _actually_ have to play,” Julian says, though he’s eyeing the game with interest, “I mean if you guys just wanna eat and then go out somewhere…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re not ditching you here alone. Not when I have so many Logan stories,” Derek grins, “Besides, I’d love to play this game with someone who has a decent sense of humor. Logan always plays too literal.”

“I never get the funny cards!”

“You just don’t know how to play what you have.”

“I’ll fucking show you,” Logan scoops the box up, holds onto his scotch in his other hand and saunters into the living room, a laughing Julian at his heels. Derek’s not far behind, grumbling what are likely insults directed Logan’s way.

Unfortunately, his bad luck with this game doesn’t seem to have ended.

“I don’t understand,” he says, dramatically tossing his cards aside when Julian wins a round by playing _firm buttocks_ as a response to _you have my sword, and my bow, and my _____ , “How the _fuck_ do you guys get cards this good, and I get stuck with _grandma_ and _a powerpoint presentation_?!”

Julian laughs, “You just have to find the right black card for it. It’s strategy.”

“There’s not _strategy_ to Cards Against Humanity.”

“There totally is. But here, if you think they’re really all that bad, we’ll give you a freebie. Pick new cards.”

Logan ignores Derek’s complaints about cheating and takes the box of unused cards from Julian, selecting new ones. They’re a little better, thankfully. _Oedipus complex_ always goes over well, and _dead parents_ can be hilariously dark. Then Logan reads his last card — _Teen heartthrob Julian Larson_.

He snorts, ignores Julian’s amused look and tucks that away to save for the perfect moment.

When he does finally play it, Julian practically screams with laughter.

“Fuck it,” he declares, “I don’t care that you’ve lost every round until now, you’re the winner. I didn’t even know this was a _card_!”

“I’ve actually never seen it,” Logan says, “Must’ve been one of the latest expansion packs or something. Derek sends me one every birthday. Probably to remind me I don’t actually have enough friends to really play.”

“Well I’m always up for it,” Julian says with a smile, “I never really get to do dumb things like this. Just hang out, y’know?”

“Not even in school?” Derek asks, frowning.

Julian shrugs, “Didn’t go, really. School by correspondence. I had tutors on set. Sometimes there’d be other kids doing work too, but mostly it was just me.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“…yeah. I guess it was.”

Julian’s expression gets a little distant, just for a moment. Then his smile returns, and he grabs Logan’s empty glass.

“I’ll just go get us more drinks, then?”

He disappears into the kitchen, and Derek hums a little.

“I like him,” he says, “He’s not as much of an asshole as you said.”

“I didn’t…he got better.”

“He likes you.”

Logan rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious!” Derek says, glancing up to make sure Julian isn’t listening, “He was totally flirting. He’s giving you bedroom eyes. He one hundred percent wants to bone.”

“I think you’re imagining things.”

“I think you’re _blind_.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something, snaps it shut when Julian re-enters the room. He drops back into his seat, handing a now-full glass to Logan while he sips out of his own. Derek’s still working on his first drink, barely touching it as they switch from games to embarrassing stories.

“So _then_ ,” Derek says to an endlessly amused Julian, “After this guy turned Logan down — god, what, a dozen times? — he _still_ planned this super public performance, this whole song-and-dance routine to try to get his attention. Which failed. Miserably, I might add.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling him this,” Logan says, glaring, “You pulled all kinds of shit to get girls in high school, and you’re attacking _me_ for singing? During a performance for a choir I was _in_ , by the way.”

“Well I think it’s sweet,” Julian says. He’s somehow moved closer, throughout the night, and when he tilts his head to look up at Logan it nearly rests against his shoulder, “I mean…yeah, you probably should’ve listened when he said he wasn’t interested. But singing to someone to prove you like them? It’s sweet. I don’t think anybody’s ever liked me enough to do something like that.”

Logan can _see_ the growing smirk on Derek’s face, but even his iciest glare can’t stop Derek from speaking up.

“Didn’t Logan sing with you a while back?” He says, thoughtfully, “He said something about helping you with your album.”

Julian just waves it off, “That was different. He gets music stuff better than I do. He was just helping.”

“I don’t know. Logan’s not really the type to sing with just anyone.”

“Yes Derek, thank you,” Logan says swiftly, “Should I share _your_ shining moments of genius, now?”

“Actually, I kinda need to hit the restroom,” he stands, nods at the hallway shooting off from the living room, “That way, I’m guessing? Room with a toilet?”

“Yeah,” Julian nods, “Second room on the right.”

He walks off, and Julian clears his throat a little, glancing sideways at Logan.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“That you don’t sing with just anyone.”

Logan hesitates, “Not usually, no.”

“Am I _just anyone_?”

“…no.”

Julian bites lightly at his lower lip, “So what am I, then?”

He’s sitting so close Logan can barely _breathe_ , let alone think. His eyes are dark, staring up at Logan through long, dark eyelashes.

“You’re…you’re my boss—”

“No,” Julian shakes his head, “Nope. You can’t use that excuse.”

“It’s _true_.”

Julian shifts a little, turns to face Logan head on, “Do you feel like I’m pressuring you?”

“…no.”

“Like I’m taking advantage of you?”

“Of course not.”

“Have I put you in a position where you think I’m gonna fire you if you don’t go along with what I want?”

“If you fire me, Alex will _kill_ you.”

“So that’s a no?”

“No. I’m not afraid you’re going to fire me.”

“So then,” Julian says, looking satisfied, “You can’t use me being your boss as an excuse.”

“I…you’re drunk.”

Julian leans over, picks his half-empty glass up from the coffee table and holds it up.

“Try it. It’s just cranberry juice. Didn’t want you using _that_ excuse, either. And you’re only a drink and a half in after four hours, so unless your tolerance is _shit_ you can’t use it either.”

“I…”

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll back off. I promise.”

Logan exhales, “I can’t. I can’t tell you that. Because I do.”

“Good.”

Julian surges forward, hands sliding up to Logan’s face. The kiss is even better than the first, all those weeks ago — untainted by Julian’s drunkenness and desperation, or Logan’s hesitation. Logan grips Julian’s waist, tugs at his hips until Julian falls into his lap. Julian’s lips part, and Logan _drowns_.

Everything is Julian. Julian’s all he can taste, smell, _feel_. He forgets all his apprehensions, forgets the threats of death hanging over them. All he can think of, all he wants, is Julian here, in his arms, for as long as he can have him.

“Told you he liked you back.”

Julian’s flushed when they part. Logan’s sure he isn’t faring much better; Derek’s almost laughing when he looks over at him.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt,” he says, pulling his keys from his pocket, “There’s a reason I stopped after one drink. Figured I’d get sexiled out of this party sooner or later.”

“ _Derek_.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he stops to tousle Logan’s hair, shoots a salacious wink Julian’s way, “You kids have fun.”

There’s a brief, mildly awkward silence as he leaves the house.

“…I have to lock the door.”

Julian slips off Logan’s lap, lets him follow in Derek’s path.

He slides the deadbolt into place, fixes the chain, enters the code for the security system. When he steps back into the living room, Julian’s perched on the arm of the sofa, looking a little unsure.

“…you’re staying?”

“I am,” Logan moves forward, coming to a half just an arms’ breadth from Julian, “If that’s what you want.”

Julian stares.

Smiles.

Holds out a hand.

And Logan, unflinchingly, takes it.


	13. no one's here to sleep

Julian Larson is beautiful.

Logan knew that, of course, but seeing him like this is different. Having Julian beneath him, naked and sweaty and absolutely gorgeous is driving Logan wild. Julian’s hands sliding across his skin, Julian’s mouth pressed against his, Julian’s breathy voice in his ear begging for _more, more, please Logan, more_.

He’s _beautiful_.

He whimpers when Logan brushes the soft skin at the juncture of Julian’s thighs. Moans when Logan’s teeth graze along his neck. Logan wants to commit every sound to memory, wants to keep the image of Julian writhing against silk sheets in his mind forever.

“Enough with the foreplay,” Julian finally says, voice a little shaky, “Fuck me already.”

Logan can’t help but laugh a little at that, leans up and kisses Julian softly, “So demanding.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all,” Logan leans back with a smirk, reaches for the nightstand drawer he assumes Julian keeps his supplies in, “Roll over for me, princess.”

And _fuck_ , isn’t that a view.

He almost forgets the ultimate goal, watching as Julian pushes himself onto hands and knees. His back arches, hips rolling at the perfect angle to best show off his pert ass.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, dropping the lube and condoms in favor of getting his hands on Julian instead. He squeezes a little, digs his fingers into the smooth skin and _stares_.

“You know,” Julian says, even as he presses back into Logan’s grip, “You can still look at it while you fuck me. It'd probably me more fun.”

“Just let me enjoy this for a second, would you? You have _dimples_.”

“I do. And there are plenty of pictures of them on the internet for you to jerk off over later. But _now…_ ”

He rolls his hips again, and Logan laughs, finally lets go and reaches for the lube and condoms.

“It’s been a while,” he warns, “Might not last as long as I should.”

“I’m starting to think I’ll never find out. Get _in me_ already.”

The first slow slide in nearly wrecks him.

Logan has to squeeze his eyes shut, take deep breaths to keep himself steady. He can feel Julian clenching around him, hear the sharp gasps as he gets used to the stretch.

“I’m fine,” Julian breathes, “I’m fine, go ahead.”

“Yeah well I’m not, alright? Give me a second.”

He tries to think of anything but the feel of Julian around him — Derek, Michelle, his _father_. Once he’s certain he’s gotten enough of a grip on himself that this won’t end just as quickly as it started, he moves. He starts slow, tests the limits of Julian’s likes and dislikes. But Julian lets out a breathy laugh when Logan thrusts roughly, cries out when Logan grabs his wrists hard enough to bruise.

He speeds up, gradually, pulls Julian close until he’s pressed to Logan’s chest, neck bared for biting kisses. He reaches one arm behind him, tugs at Logan’s hair enough to make him growl.

“ _More_ ,” he begs.

Logan doesn’t hesitate to give him what he wants.

He collapses, after, barely has the energy to pull out of Julian before he falls boneless onto the bed. Julian isn’t faring much better; he’s sprawled out on his stomach, a dazed smile on his face.

“Wow,” he breathes, after a few moments, “You’re not half-bad, Wright.”

“Think I’m a little better than that. How many times did I get you to scream my name?”

“You’re the one who got hypnotized by my ass.”

“It’s a _very_ nice ass.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Logan grins, rolls onto his side and curls up against Julian, winding an arm around his waist. He kisses that smile, rests his head on the pillow near enough that he can feel Julian’s breath on his skin.

“You’re not the type to kick a guy out after he rocks your world, are you?”

“Usually? Yes.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. Julian bites at his lower lip, ducks his head a little.

“But I maybe wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

“No?” Logan raises his hand, brushes a sweaty lock of hair from Julian’s eyes, “Because I can be a little bit of a cuddler, you know. Hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as you make me coffee in the morning.”

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

Julian lets Logan pull him closer, slips one leg between Logan’s and rests his head against the other man’s chest. It feels _right_ , having Julian cradled in his arms like this. He tangles one hand in Julian’s hair, keeps the other firmly around the man’s waist.

Julian falls asleep first.

Logan takes the opportunity to stare. To watch the slow rise and fall of Julian’s breaths, the long stretch of his limbs across the bed. He looks  _softer_ like this. Quiet, calm, at peace for once. It's nice.

He smiles, presses a soft kiss to the top of Julian’s hair and finally lets himself sleep.

When he wakes, Julian’s still wrapped in his arms. He’s fast asleep, still, actually drooling a little on Logan’s chest. He can’t really bring himself to mind, though — he’s mostly just thankful Julian’s getting some much-needed rest, thankful he hadn’t woken midway through the night and pushed Logan out of his bed.

He stirs when Logan runs a hand up his side, wriggling a little against Logan’s chest.

“Tickles,” he mumbles, and Logan smiles.

“Morning.”

Julian stiffens, at first, face tilting up in a slow arc. When he meets Logan’s eyes he relaxes, smiling a little lazily.

“Morning,” he says, “You’re still here.”

“Should I not be?”

“Just a little surprised. I kinda thought you’d have run away with regret by now.”

“I probably should feel bad. Sleeping with the boss. But it was worth it.”

“Oh yeah?” Julian leans up, presses a sloppy kiss to Logan’s cheek, “I can make it _more_ worth it.”

He shifts, trails a line of wet kisses down Logan’s neck, his chest, hands sliding even lower…

Logan’s phone rings.

Julian makes a soft noise of complaint, “Ignore it. It’s not important.”

“It could be,” Logan says, “Could be Carmen.”

“She can wait.”

Logan wants to listen, he really does. Julian’s mouth is moving lower, following the path of his wandering hands. Every cell in his body is screaming at him to let this happen, to shove his phone aside and see how far Julian's willing to go. But only a small handful of people have Logan’s new number, and he really should at least check.

“Yes?” He says into his phone, ignoring the displeased sound Julian makes.

“Logan Wright? I’m calling from St. Vincent Medical Center."

"St. Vincent...the hospital?" Julian pulls his mouth away from Logan's hip, gives him a questioning look.

"Yes sir," the woman on the phone continues, "I have you listed as an emergency contact for a Mr. Derek Seigerson, is that correct?”

He sits up abruptly, pushing Julian away, “Yes? What’s wrong, what happened?”

“There’s been an incident. Are you able to come in?”

“Is Derek okay?”

Julian’s eyes widen. He pushes himself to his knees, mouths something that Logan ignores.

“He’s…”

“Is he _okay_?”

“He’s…stable, Mr. Wright.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up and rolls out of bed, reaches for the pile of clothes on the floor and grabs the first thing he can find.

“Logan? What is it? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Logan says shortly, pulling on what might be Julian’s shirt, “Just stay here, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

“I can go with you,” Julian sits up, “Let me help.”

“I said stay _here_ , Julian!”

Julian shrinks a little, staring a little wide-eyed as Logan hurries around the room gathering his things.

“…is he okay?”

“I don’t _know_ , alright? Just…stay. I have to go.”

He hurries from the room, races downstairs and out the door without another word. His phone tells him it’ll take forty-five minutes to get to the hospital.

He makes it in twenty-six.

There’s a line at the desk, but he barges right through, leans across the counter.

“Derek Seigerson. Where is he?”

The woman at the desk looks a little flustered, but must realize it’s easier to give him what he wants than to argue. She types something into her computer, glances at the screen.

“Room 124,” she says, gesturing at a door to her left, “That hallway. Towards the end.”

Someone calls out to him when he barges through the doors, but Logan’s on a single-minded mission. He glances at the room numbers, not slowing down until he hits 124. He has to steel himself, prepared for the absolute worse. But when he opens the door, Derek's half-sitting in bed, eyes open and just a little glassy.

His head turns when Logan walks in the room.

“Heeeeeeey buddy,” he says with a smile, looking a little disoriented. There’s a nurse sitting beside him, holding an ice pack to the side of his head. She frowns a little when he moves, reaching out to hold him still.

“Oh god, D, what happened?”

Logan moves forward, hesitating at Derek’s side and looking him over. One of his legs is wrapped in a cast, and when the nurse moves he can just make out the edges of a dark bruise across his temple.

“Fucker _hit me_ ,” Derek says, frowning, “You gotta beat him up for me.”

“He’s on a lot of pain medication right now,” the nurse says, “He’s a little out of it."

Logan waves her off, “Who hit you?”

“ _Asshole_. In your apartment. You gotta get him, Lo. Bro code. You _gotta_.”

“Who, Derek?”

“Dunno,” Derek’s head lolls to the side again, “Some jerk. Said something weird. ‘bout that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The _guy_ ,” he says, sounding a little irritated, “Hot one. With the butt? You like him.”

“Julian?”

“That one!”

Logan kneels beside the bed, takes Derek’s hand and squeezes.

“What did he say, D? When he hit you, what did he say?”

“Julian. Said…said stay away from Julian.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“I don’t _get_ it,” Derek continues, looking a little confused, “Why’d he want me to stay away from Julian?”

“I don’t know, D.”

“Never touched him. Swear.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“L'gan?" Derek yawns, and his head lolls to the side again, "I’m sleepy.”

Logan looks up at the nurse, “Does he…can he sleep? Does he have a concussion or anything?”

“He does,” she says, lifting the ice pack to check on his bruise, “We’re monitoring him, though. He’s okay.”

When Logan looks back down, Derek’s eyes are already closed. He squeezes his hand again and turns to the nurse.

“What happened, exactly?”

“Neighbors heard suspicious noises and called the police. From what I understand, someone broke into his apartment—”

“My apartment,” Logan corrects, an uneasy feeling rising in his chest.

“Right. Someone broke into the apartment. The police found him right by the door, they think he must’ve been attacked as soon as he walked in. A baseball bat, maybe, or some kind of pipe. We’re not really sure. Blunt force trauma to the head, here — thankfully there doesn’t appear to be any swelling of the brain, though we’ll continue to monitor that over the next few days. Another hit to the knee, here. He wasn’t so lucky with that one, I’m afraid. There’s a patellar fracture. He’ll likely need surgery. We have an orthopedic surgeon coming by this afternoon for an eval.”

“But he’s going to be okay? I mean knee surgery, that’s not a big deal, right?”

“It’s a tricky recovery. Lots of bedrest. Bulky casts. But yes, he’ll be okay.”

Logan lets out a slow breath, relief washing over him. He’d expected the worst, when the hospital called. After Liam had been _shot_ , he’d been so sure he’d find Derek in much worse condition. He can’t believe how lucky they got, that the attacker had armed himself with just a bat this time.

Still, this whole situation is unbelievably fucked.

He knows Derek can’t have been the intended target. He’d been seen in public with Julian _once_ , surrounded only by industry professionals who hadn't seemed to pay them much attention. He hadn’t touched Julian at all, had made no indications that would have this stalker convinced he was anything more than a casual friend. It had happened in _Logan’s_ apartment, late at night, the very same day Julian had given an interview joking about his _torrid affair with his bodyguard_.

They’d been there for _him_. For Logan. He knows it.

Someone had broken into Logan’s apartment, intending to attack him. Instead, they’d gotten _Derek_.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“…Logan?”

He turns.

Julian’s standing timidly by the door, staring at Derek in the hospital bed.

“Julian. What are you doing here?”

“I came to…is he okay?”

Logan stands, crosses the room and pushes Julian back into the hallway. He can feel the familiar rise of anger in his chest, knows he can’t stop it. He’d told Julian to _stay_ , goddamnit! It’s not safe, him wandering through a hospital without any form of protection.

And Julian doesn’t seem to _care._

“I told you to stay at home,” Logan snaps. He grabs Julian’s elbow, perhaps a little harder than intended, “You shouldn’t be here, Julian, how’d you even…did you drive _yourself_?”

“No,” Julian says defensively, “I called Lionel. He drove me.”

“Well call him again. Go _home_ , Julian.”

“I wanted to see how he is,” he cranes his neck, tries to catch a glimpse through the door, “Derek. Is he okay?”

“No. No, he’s not.”

“What can I do? I can help, I can—”

“You’ve done enough already.”

Julian freezes, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t you _get_ it, Julian?! My best friend almost died because of _you_.”

He isn’t sure why he says it. Maybe it’s the stress, the fear, the guilt he’d felt seeing Derek in that hospital bed. He sees the hurt on Julian’s face the moment the words leave his mouth. He pulls his arm from Logan’s grip, looking away.

“It’s not…you said it wasn’t my fault. That people getting hurt…that it wasn’t me.”

“Don’t be stupid, Julian. You think this is a fucking coincidence? That yesterday you gave an interview where you said you were having an affair with me, and then _my apartment_ gets broken into? God, you have no sense of self preservation, do you? You can’t just keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

He should stop. He _needs_ to stop. But he feels that anger again, the rage he’s spent years suppressing bubbling to the surface. The image of Derek in the hospital bed, the purpling bruise across his temple, the _guilt_ he feels knowing it should’ve been him all meld together, and he can’t _shut up_.

Julian’s shaking a little, crosses his arms over his chest and hunches his shoulders as he takes a step back.

“Right,” he says thickly, “Right. I’m just…I’ll go, then. Sorry for bothering you.”

Julian hurries back down the way he came. Logan sighs, brings a hand to his face and squeezes at the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck!” His fist connects with the wall beside him. He can feel the skin of his knuckles break, sees the dent in the plaster. A nurse beside him startles, staring a little wide-eyed at him. But he ignores her, glances once at Derek’s door before starting after Julian.

He catches up with him outside the hospital, just as Julian’s approaching the waiting car. Lionel’s holding the door for him, looking a little concerned at the expression on Julian’s face.

“ _Julian!_ ”

Both men look up. As Logan moves closer, he sees the redness to Julian’s eyes, the way he draws in on himself. Lionel looks a little confused, frowns at Logan.

“Wright?” He says, laying one hand protectively on Julian’s shoulder, “What are you doing here?”

Logan ignores him, “Julian, look…”

“Go back inside, Logan. I’m sure Derek needs you more than I do.”

Lionel’s brow furrows, “Derek…?”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Logan pushes forward, reaching for Julian. But he moves away, stepping behind Lionel.

“Doesn’t mean you didn't mean it,” Julian says, “Just go back inside, Logan.”

“Julian…”

“You heard him,” Lionel says roughly, “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He takes another step forward. Lionel’s hand shoots up, shoving hard against Logan’s chest.

“Stay. Away. From him.”

Part of Logan wants to fight. Part of him is _furious_ , that Lionel’s dared to put hands on him. But another part — the part of him that’s struggling to get a grip on things — knows it’s futile. He’s already terrified Julian, already said unforgivable things to his face.

He steps back.

Julian’s taken his distraction as opportunity to slide into the car. The door’s closed firmly, the windows tinted enough that Logan can’t make out the figure inside.

He sighs, takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“Just…just get him home safe, alright?”

“I know what to do.”

Lionel shoots him another disgusted glare before turning away. He’s pulling out of the parking lot in mere seconds, taking Julian with him.

Logan spends the next few hours making calls.

He calls Amanda, first. Derek’s always been closer to her than the rest of his family, and Logan doesn’t want to run the risk of her hearing half of the story from their parents. Once he’s assured her that Derek’s going to be fine, he calls Derek’s mom, gives her the shortened version of Derek’s condition. Carmen’s next. She, understandably, freaks out. He tells her of his suspicions, that _he’d_ been the real target, that the man who’d attacked Derek had specifically brought up Julian’s name.

“Right,” Carmen says, sounding frazzled, “Just…take a few days, alright? Take care of your friend. I need to talk to the police.”

She hangs up, and Logan settles back in at Derek’s bedside. Derek floats in and out of sleep for most of the day, a little less out of it each time he wakes. It’s not until late afternoon that he finally regains some semblance of reality.

“Lo?” He croaks, hoarsely, “Fuck. This fucking _hurts_.”

“Do you want me to call the nurse? They have you on a morphine drip already, but maybe they can up your dose.”

“No, wait, I can _think_ like this,” Derek winces a little, shifts on the bed until he’s almost sitting, “I didn’t see him. I’m sorry, I should’ve looked…”

“You got attacked, D. I don’t expect you to give a perfect account of who did it.”

“He was taller than me, I think,” Derek says, “I didn’t…I was just gonna go to bed, so I didn’t turn on the light. But I think he was taller than me.”

“It’s okay, Derek.”

“It’s _not_. This is fucked up, Logan. This guy isn’t just going after _Julian_ , he’s going after everyone. You can’t do this. You have to quit.”

“I can’t do that,” Logan says, “I can’t…who knows what this guy’ll do to Julian, if he gets the chance. I promised him I’d keep him safe.”

“I know you like him. But is he actually worth your _life_?”

When Logan can’t manage a response, Derek sighs and leans back into his pillows.

“Well. Can’t say I didn’t warn you, at least.”

“Derek…” Logan leans forward, squeezing Derek’s arm, “I’ll be okay, alright? I promise. Worry about yourself. You have a pretty shitty few weeks ahead of you.”

“Yeah. Don’t think I’ll be getting that promotion anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you thinking about work at _all_ right now, do you hear me? Focus on getting better.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. Call the nurse though, would you? Think I’ll take that higher morphine dose now.”

Logan stays by Derek’s side as long as he can. But soon after the nurse comes in with Derek’s dinner, he’s ushered out.

“Visiting hours start at nine in the morning,” she tells him, “He needs to rest. I promise, we’ll call if there’s any change.”

He’s a little hesitant to go back to his apartment. He keeps one hand on his gun as he steps in, immediately flips on the lights and has a look around. Once he’s sure he’s alone in the room, he deadbolts his door, secures the chain he’d added soon after moving in. Just to be safe, he drags over one of the chairs from his dining set and jams it under the doorknob.

He tries calling Julian.

Predictably, it rings a few times before going to voicemail.

He tries again.

This time, it goes straight to voicemail.

He sends a text.

_I’m sorry. I was upset. It wasn’t your fault. Please just let me know you’re safe._

He doesn’t get a response.

Julian’s just upset, he tells himself. He needs time. Logan sets his phone down, pads into the bathroom to shower. He towels off his hair, changes into comfortable clothes, checks his phone again.

Still no messages.

 _Please just let me know you’re okay,_ he tries again, _I promise I’ll stop bothering you if you tell me you’re okay._

Nothing.

He tries Alex next — he’s sure Julian’s schedule had been cleared after the attack on Derek, so Carmen may have told Alex not to worry about coming in, but it’s the best shot he has.

 _Sorry,_ Alex texts in response, _Mama C has the house on lockdown. Think they’ve got police there, though. I’m sure he’s fine._

Realistically, Logan knows he’s right. Carmen wouldn’t leave Julian unprotected. Still, he keeps his phone close as he scarfs down a quick dinner, holds it in one hand when he finally trudges to bed.

Julian never texts.

Logan can't really blame him.


	14. still alone in my mind

“You said _what_?”

Derek’s expression is somewhere between angry and disappointed. Logan expected this, really. He’d been putting off talking about this for days, but Derek had started to talk once the pain meds had worn off. He’d smirked when Logan told him about the night he’d spent in Julian’s house, but _that_ expression had vanished quickly.

“No, no wait,” Derek holds his hand up when Logan opens his mouth to talk, “You…you slept with him. Right? You hooked up with Julian. Who you like. A lot. Who clearly likes you. And then you _blamed him_ for me getting hurt?”

“It’s not like I was wrong!” Logan says, a little too defensively, “You think it was a coincidence that he made a joke on-air about having an affair with his bodyguard, and someone broke into my apartment that same night?”

“Of course it wasn’t a coincidence, but it wasn’t his _fault_. He didn’t ask for a stalker. He didn’t ask for someone to go around offing anyone who touches him. You’re victim-blaming," Derek points at him dramatically, and Logan scowls.

“I am not victim-blaming.”

“You are. He’s a victim. You’re blaming him. Victim. Blaming.”

“If we’re getting into specifics, I think you’re the victim here.”

Derek waves him off, “Multiple victims. That Liam guy? Not his fault either. Not _my_ fault. Not Julian’s fault. You have to apologize, big time. Groveling.”

“If he ever lets me speak to him again.”

“Well you have to go back to work eventually, right?”

Logan sighs, “I don’t know. Carmen told me to take some time off. You just had _surgery_.”

“And there’s a dozen hot nurses on rotation taking care of me. Did you see that redhead earlier? Gorgeous.”

“D…”

“I’m safe here, alright? Julian might not be. He needs you.”

“…yeah. I could call Carmen. Alex, maybe. See what’s going on. Are you _sure_ you’ll be okay, though?”

“I have the best suite in the hospital. Totally paid for, until I can walk again. They told me it was an _anonymous donor_ , so thank that hot boss of yours, would you?”

“Again, if he even lets me talk.”

“Just get out of here, alright? You’re a fucking mess, go shower and apologize until he lets you sleep with him again.”

“I was just trying to help you, jeez," he gets up anyway, pats Derek on the shoulder, “Call me though? If anything happens?”

“Hot nurses. Be way easier to flirt if you’re gone. So _go_.”

He does his best to push Logan away despite being bed-ridden. Logan rolls his eyes, gives him one last nod and heads out.

He calls Carmen the second he’s in the car.

“Oh thank god,” she says, the moment he answers, “Please tell me this is about you coming back in, I can’t keep Alex on this schedule for much longer.”

“Is Julian okay?”

“Julian barely leaves his _room_ , let alone the house. He’s fine. But I’d really like to give Alex a day off, so…?”

“Give me a few hours?”

“He’s scheduled for recording time at one.”

“I’ll be there.”

She hangs up without a goodbye, and Logan takes a deep breath before driving back to his apartment. He does look like a mess, so he takes a long shower, pulls on fresh clothes and gels his hair back. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, practices a few apologies. But the words sound stale, even to him.

He tries again in the car. When his own voice starts to annoy him, he flips on the radio, groaning when one of Julian’s old singles plays.

It’s like he’s fucking _cursed_.

Alex and Carmen are both waiting in the living room when Logan walks in. They each look exhausted — dark shadows circle their eyes, and Alex looks seconds away from crying with relief at Logan’s presence.

“Alright, Wright,” Carmen stands, holds back a yawn, “We have LAPD patrolling the neighborhood 24/7. Any trigger to the alarm system immediately sends an alert to them. We’ve also scrapped everything. No interviews. No photoshoots. Travis put their film on hold. Nothing, until we figure out what the hell is going on.”

“The album, too?”

“There’s a recording studio in the house. We have a sound engineer coming in. _If_ he leaves his bedroom, that is.”

Logan swallows, “Has he…talked about what’s upsetting him?”

He's a little worried that Carmen  _knows_ , that Julian's given some kind of indication that Logan's the one who pissed him off so much. She doesn't seem inclined to fire him, but that doesn't mean she can't make his life a living hell. 

Instead, though, Carmen just sighs and shakes her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“He’s always moody when he isn’t working. He has a stalker on the loose. I’m not letting him party, which means he isn’t getting laid. Pick one.”

“Well don’t you think he should…I don’t know, talk to someone?”

Carmen scoffs, “If you can get him to agree to seeing a psych, be my guest. Better people than you have tried.”

She gathers up her things, tucks her purse into the crook of her elbow.

“So, questions?”

“No. Think I’m good.”

“Perfect,” she seems to be staring _through_ him, looks a little dazed, “I think I’m gonna get a massage.”

Alex cracks a smile as she leaves, raises an eyebrow at Logan once the door closes.

“She’s a little stressed,” he tells him, “She usually doesn’t come around here this often. On the phone with the cops. She baked, yesterday. _Baked_. Chocolate chip cookies.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I feel like I haven’t seen my kids in a week.”

“Go home,” Logan says, “Really, I can handle things here for as long as you need me to.”

“Well thank you. And good luck, seriously. You’re gonna need it.”

Alex leaves on that foreboding note, and Logan glances at the stairs, listens for any sign that Julian’s actually there. He slips down the hallway, checks the camera feed and sees Julian still in bed. It’s probably for the best, he decides — the one upside to their whole thing is Julian actually getting sleep, and Logan doesn’t want to interrupt his rest for an apology that probably won’t be well-received.

With Julian asleep, though, Logan doesn’t really have much to do. He scrolls through his phone for a while, plays that ridiculous cat game until he gets frustrated. He almost misses the sound of Julian’s door opening, of his footsteps on the stairs. He just barely manages to shove his phone in his pocket when Julian walks into the kitchen.

And he looks _awful_.

He’s dressed in gym shorts and a ratty sweatshirt, his hair an unruly tangle atop his head. The dark circles under his eyes rival Carmen’s and Alex’s _combined,_ and it almost looks like he’s lost weight since Logan had last seen him just days ago. When he sees Logan, he freezes, and Logan’s struck by the look of disdain in his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Julian, look—”

“Get out.”

“I do still work for you, you know.”

“Funny, I thought you would’ve been smart enough to quit.”

“And what, leave you unprotected?”

“I don’t want you here, okay?” Julian explodes, “How do you not get that?”

“If you’d just let me apologize—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Julian—”

“I said _stop_!”

Julian brings his hands to his face, rubs the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“Julian…”

“Don’t. Just…let me know when the sound engineer shows up, alright?”

He turns away, grabs a bottled Starbucks drink from the fridge and promptly storms off without a second glance. Logan sighs. He’d known Julian wouldn’t really want to hear an apology, but he thought he’d at least get out a few words. Instead, it seems Julian’s just completely shutting him out again, treating him like just another employee.

Julian doesn’t reappear until the sound engineers show up. Logan recognizes the woman — Alice, he thinks, this time with pink hair instead of blue — but not the man with her, a scrawny teenager with a heavy computer bag over one shoulder.

“Hey, bodyguard!” Alice says brightly, popping her gum, “This is Jeremy. Picked the least intimidating assistant we had. Pretty sure Larson could take him down with one hand tied behind his back. But please feel free to frisk him, I’d love to see the look on his face.”

Logan takes one look at the kid and his wide eyes, and steps aside, letting the two pass.

“Just stay by me, alright? No wandering.”

Alice salutes, and Jeremy nods awkwardly.

“Is he ready, then?”

“He’s…I’ll grab him while you two set up, how’s that?”

Alice just shrugs at that. She’s obviously worked from Julian’s home studio before, walks straight to the right room and drags Jeremy with her. Logan heads down the hall, taps his knuckles against Julian’s door and waits.

He expects there to be a fight, but the door swings open just seconds later. Julian looks much more put together now — he’s still wearing the old hoodie, but he’s changed into dark jeans, tamed his hair just a little bit.

He doesn’t even glance Logan’s way, pushes past him and heads into the studio.

“Al, hi,” he says, voice deceptively cheerful as he pulls her into a hug, “Sorry it’s been so long, I know you hate when singers drag album production out for months.”

“I hate the people who do it because they’re lazy,” she clarifies, “But _you’re_ just too busy to hang out with me, I get that.”

Julian laughs, “Well I have nothing else on my plate now. I’m all yours. I’ll fight Sylvia for your attention.”

“Hey. My girlfriend is _much_ hotter than you. She wins. Doesn’t quite have your ass, but I’ll deal.”

“Uh, hi,” the teenager chimes in suddenly, a hesitant smile on his face, “I’m Jeremy. I _loved_ Something Damaged.”

Julian glances over at him, “Cool.”

There’s a few minutes of tech talk before Julian heads into the adjoining room — he switches up the order of songs he wants to record, and Alice suggests a few small changes, plays a backing track for him to listen to.

“I can’t believe you work for Julian Larson,” Jeremy whispers to Logan as the recording starts, “He’s like…the best actor of this generation.”

“He’s also got a stalker,” Logan says drily, “Not sure if you heard. But we generally don’t like him around people obsessed with him.”

Jeremy looks panicked, “I’m not… _obsessed_. I just think he’s really talented and cool and—”

“Yo, Jer!” Alice leans back in her chair, lifting the headphones she’s wearing off one ear, “You wanna keep sounding like a creeper or you wanna learn how to mix? Leave bodyguard alone and get your skinny ass over here.”

The kid gets a little flustered, hurries over to her side and watches her point out different aspects of the soundboard. Logan turns his attention to Julian, watches him lean into the microphone and sing.

He’s good, there’s no doubt about that. But he's not as good as he’d been last time Logan watched him perform. It’s like his heart isn’t in it, like he’s not actually feeling the words he’s singing. They try it again, a little different, but the emotions still aren’t showing. Alice turns to him, double-checks her microphone is off so Julian doesn’t hear them.

“You wanna save it again, bodyguard?”

“He’s not too happy with me at the moment.”

“Well we can’t use this. I can't even play it back for him, he'll hate it.”

Logan sighs, “I don’t know. I’m not a producer. Just…try another song, I guess?”

Alice hums, drags her finger down the list of songs Julian’s jotted down and turns her mic back on.

“Larson, buddy? How about we try something new, okay? I wanna hear this _Alone_ thing.”

Julian hesitates, glances up through the glass, “I…Yeah. Yeah sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

He clears his throat, and Alice presses play on a backing track that’s much more subdued than the rest of Julian’s songs. Julian’s eyes close, and he takes a deep breath.

The song is haunting. It’s slow, the focus on the lyrics instead of the instrumentation behind them. Within just a few lines, it’s obvious this is one of the songs Julian’s written entirely himself.

It’s the kind of song everyone will be able to relate to. It’s about loneliness, about feeling misunderstood even when surrounded by people. The kind of thing anybody could listen to and think: _yes, this is about me_. I _feel like this_.

But for Logan, now, it’s _painful_.

He’s seen the way Julian smiles to cover up pain. Heard Julian drunkenly confess how lonely he is, how desperately he wants something real. He knows the feeling himself — his father had dragged him to dozens of political galas, events where Logan had stood in a crowded room, surrounded by beautiful people eager to please, and still felt completely alone.

It’s exactly what Alice wants. The emotion, the hurt, the unbridled agony — Julian hits everything perfectly.

He sings the last line, shuts his eyes as he lets the final note linger in the air.

Alice cheers. Jeremy’s praise starts immediately.

Logan’s the only one who sees the solitary tear slip down Julian’s cheek.

“How was that?” He asks, voice thick.

“That was beautiful, dude! Absolutely perfect. Let me give this another listen real quick, but we might not even need another take of this one.”

“Cool,” Julian nods, slips the headphones from his ears, “I’m just gonna…I need a minute.”

He hurries out of the room. Logan watches, sees the tightness of Julian’s shoulders.

“I’ll just go check on him, real quick.”

Alice waves at him, attention focused on the song. Logan follows Julian, assumes he’s retreated into the bedroom and makes his way inside.

He’s not all that surprised to find Julian crying.

What _is_ surprising is the look of absolute anguish on his face, the devastated look in his eyes when they turn to Logan.

“Julian…”

Logan takes a hesitant step forward, waits a moment to give Julian the opportunity to kick him out, if that’s what he wants. When Julian says nothing, he takes another step, then another, holds his arms out.

Julian collapses into them.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, ‘I’m _sorry_. For Derek. For Liam. For all of it. It _is_ my fault. You were right, and I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Logan folds his arms around Julian, holds onto him as he breaks, “I shouldn’t have said what I said, alright? It’s not your fault. None of it.”

“It is,” Julian sobs, “It is, and I’m _sorry_.”

“No. No, I’m sorry,” Logan insists, “Julian, this wasn’t you. None of it.”

Julian just shakes his head, now crying too hard to speak. Logan squeezes him once and steps back, cups his face lightly.

“I’m gonna go get them out of your house okay? I’ll be two minutes. Then we can talk, alright? It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

He leads Julian backwards to the bed, pushes him down to the mattress and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Two minutes,” he promises.

Alice and Jeremy pack up quickly, don’t complain or ask questions when Logan makes up an excuse and ushers them out of the house. He locks up behind them, hesitates for a moment at the kitchen — he knows Julian always goes for the rosé when he’s upset, but he’d also like Julian to _talk_ rather than drink, right now. He decides against it, makes his way back upstairs and finds Julian curled up on his bed, blankets clutched to his chest.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says softly, when Logan steps into the room, “This...whatever this is is...it's happened before. I've been fine. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sure Derek would—”

“Hey,” Logan cuts him off firmly, walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, “Is there a reason you’re trying to push me away? Because if you’re still mad at me, I get it. I’ll go. But I don’t think that’s why.”

Julian laughs, a little bitterly, “It’s what I do, isn’t it? Push people away?”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do. Every time. I write entire fucking songs about how much I hate being alone, and then I chase away anybody who actually gives a damn.”

“That’s not true. You have people who care about you.”

“Then why do I feel like this all the time?”

He turns his head up, fixes his teary gaze on Logan’s face.

“I…”

“I don’t want to feel alone anymore, Logan.”

The thing is, Logan knows what Julian wants. There’s no mistaking the look on his face, the way his body shifts on the bed. He knows what Julian wants, and he knows it’s a _terrible_ idea. That this way Julian has of dealing with his insecurities — this tendency to fall into bed with anyone willing — is unhealthy. That he should be encouraging better than this, make Julian _talk_ for once.

But he wants to help, in any way he can. He wants to show Julian he's not alone, even if only for a few moments. Wants to hold Julian, to make him forget all the awful shit in his life right now.

And the thing is, Logan’s just as lonely as Julian is.

He leans forward, pulls Julian into a soft kiss. Julian deepens it almost immediately, winds his arms around Logan’s neck and tugs him closer. Logan kicks his shoes off, climbs onto the bed, and gives Julian what he thinks he needs.

He feels like absolute shit, after.

Julian rolls away the moment it’s over. He curls up on his side, facing the wall. Logan sits up, looks over at him and wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

“I don’t expect you to stay,” Julian mumbles, “They pretty much never do.”

“I stayed last time, didn’t I?”

“That was before I almost killed your best friend.”

“I’m not leaving you alone like this, Julian.”

It’s quiet, for a moment.

“…do you think I’m pathetic?” Julian finally asks, voice so low it’s barely audible.

“No. I think you’re scared.”

Julian doesn’t say anything.

Logan didn’t really expect him to. He turns on his side, stares at the back of Julian’s head. He reaches forward, brushes his fingers against Julian’s side.

“Is it okay if I stay?”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because, Julian. I want you,” Logan says, “I know that’s hard for you to believe. But I want _you_.”


	15. gonna raise the stakes, gonna smoke you out

“I hate you.”

Logan smirks, “Yeah. I know.”

“No. I _hate_ you. This is absolutely humiliating.”

“Stop bitching, would you? This is your fault, for refusing the wheelchair.”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking carry me around like some pathetic princess.”

“There’re stairs. I’m not gonna watch you trip down them because you’re too stubborn to use the doctor-recommended wheelchair they gave you.”

Derek scowls, dropping his chin against Logan’s shoulder, “And you brought boy-toy to watch. Fantastic. Thank you for this.”

“He keeps asking if you’re okay. I thought he’d like to see for himself.”

Julian’s standing back a little ways, watching with a faint smile as Logan carts a still-complaining Derek out of the hospital and into the waiting car. He grabs the seatbelt, buckles Derek in — “I can do that _myself_ , get off!” — and turns to Julian.

“So do you wanna drive or ride in back?”

Julian makes a face, pulls his sunglasses off the top of his head and slides them over his eyes before yanking the back door open. Before he can slide in, Logan reaches out, wraps his hand around Julian’s wrist.

“Hey,” he starts, but Julian’s already ripping his arm away, looking around in a panic.

“Not _here_ ,” he hisses, “There are people around!”

Logan glances up, eyes the two nurses sitting on the steps eating their lunch and the frazzled man barking into his cell phone.

“Pretty sure your stalker isn’t here, Jules.”

“Not here,” Julian repeats, firmly, “I told you.”

He slides into the backseat, pulling the door shut behind him. Logan just sighs, makes his way to the driver’s seat and sets out for the airport.

“Alright,” he says, as they pull onto the freeway, “You heard the doctors, right? You still have to take it easy. At least another two weeks.”

“They said I’m good to go to work,” Derek argues, “I sit at a desk all day, I’ll be fine.”

“Easy,” Logan stresses, “That means no eighty-hour work weeks.”

“You work eighty hour work weeks, don’t you?”

“To be fair,” Julian chimes in, “He doesn’t really _work_. He mostly paces around my house and sleeps in my guest room.”

“Guest room?” Derek turns around in his seat, “You guys aren’t…he moved into your house, didn’t he? And he’s sleeping in the _guest room_?”

“Well someone’s trying to kill everyone I sleep with,” Julian says flatly, and Logan clears his throat.

“I moved in for security,” he says, “I told you. Someone obviously figured out where I live, so my apartment isn’t safe anymore. None of us really like the idea of leaving Julian in that house alone. It’s not…we’re not dating.”

There’s a noticeable tension in the air at that, and even Derek turns away awkwardly.

It’s true, though — they aren’t dating. They’re _something_ , something that’s not quite professional and not quite personal, and Logan desperately wants to understand it. He’s tried, more than once, to get Julian to talk about it. But each time, he’s shut down.

“ _People around me are getting hurt_ ,” Julian’ll say, “ _I can’t start anything now, with all this happening._ ”

It’s frustrating, and infuriating, and Logan can’t convince Julian to move on past that. In public — the very few times Julian’s been allowed in public, at least — he avoids touching Logan at all costs, acts as if he doesn’t even _know_ him.

In private, though, it’s different. Not always, not every day, but sometimes.

Julian had been the one to suggest Logan moving in.

“ _Your place isn’t really safe, is it? If they got to Derek, they can get to you. I have plenty of spare rooms.”_

Logan might’ve argued, if not for the look in Julian’s eyes. If he hadn’t heard the underlying meaning in Julian’s words.

 _“I don’t want to be alone._ ”

So he’d agreed. He’d packed up his clothes, grabbed a few essentials, and situated himself in one of Julian’s spare rooms.

He doesn’t spend every night in that room. Sometimes, Julian will bite his lip and look Logan’s way, and Logan follows him to bed.

They don’t have sex.

That’s Logan’s rule, and he’s very firm about it. He still feels awful about that night, still feels like he’d taken advantage of Julian’s emotional state. Julian’s insisted, more than once, that that isn’t the case. That he’s _fine_ , that he’d just had a bad night. Still, Logan insists, and they don’t have sex. They still sleep together, on those nights — Julian tucked up against Logan’s chest, Logan’s arms wrapped around Julian’s waist.

Julian doesn’t talk, much. He’s obviously still overwhelmed by this whole situation, and Logan wishes more than anything that he could fix it, that he could help just a little. So he holds Julian when he needs it, lets Julian curl up beside him on the sofa as they watch hours of movies and television. He orders his favorite food, keeps his coffee supply up.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, Logan knows, so long as Julian’s still terrified and anxious and locked up in his own house. They need to end this. They need to figure out who’s doing this to him.

That’s all that’s on Logan’s mind, even as he sends Derek off. The three of them walk into the airport together — Julian as disguised as he can be, in his sunglasses and ill-fitting clothes and a hideous hat — and Logan checks in for the flight, leaves Derek and Julian in a quiet corner as he finds an employee to help Derek get to his gate.

They’re talking quietly to each other when they return. Julian’s almost smiling, a little, and the thing between them only breaks when Derek catches sight of the wheelchair coming his way.

“Oh come _on_ ,” he says loudly, “Again?”

“Dude, you’ve got a brace on your knee that keeps you from bending a leg. You really want to _walk_ through airport security?”

Derek makes a face, but eventually lets Logan push him into the chair, gives him a quick hug.  
“You two be safe, alright? I don’t want to hear either of your names on the news unless someone’s winning an award.”

“We’ll do our best,” Julian says, “Promise.”

They watch as he gets wheeled away. He waves when he makes it to security, then disappears in the crowd.

Julian’s quiet on the drive home. Logan’s come to expect it. He finds a mellow radio station, taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of soft rock songs.

He’s equally quiet when they get to the house, and Logan speaks up before Julian can disappear.

“So what was Derek to saying to you, before he left?” He asks, and Julian looks up.

“He…nothing. Nothing important.”

“Well that definitely means it was about me.”

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry,” he smiles weakly, then looks away and shoves his hands in his sweatshirt pocket, “So um…I have nothing today, I’m guessing?”

“Still no,” Logan says a little apologetically, “Alex is coming by, for a few hours. We’re gonna try to comb through all this footage again, see if there’s anything new we notice.”

“Right,” Julian nods, takes a step back, “I’m just gonna…go reply to Twitter messages, I guess.”

He turns, takes the stairs two at a time and disappears into his room. Logan just sighs, steps into the room he’s now deemed his office and tries to get somewhat organized. Alex had put together a list, of all the dates and times of the break-ins and letters and _gifts_. He pulls the footage from those days, cues it all up so it’ll be ready.

Alex shows up with snacks, tosses a party-sized bag of chips at Logan’s lap as he settles into his chair.

“He doing okay?”

“He’s…physically fine,” Logan says, “But I think this is getting to be really hard on him.”

“I know. We’re gonna figure this out. Carmen’s meeting with the police again, but I figured we could help here as much as we can. There’s gotta be something we missed.”

They comb through the footage for hours, slowing down and re-winding the same parts over and over.

“Alright, so the cops saw this,” Alex freezes on a frame of the hooded figure they’ve been unable to identify, “They did some analysis on it and got a basic profile. Almost definitely a man. They said he’s roughly 6’2”, 180 pounds. It’d fit with the information your friend gave. You talked to your landlord, right?”

“Yep. Nobody saw a thing, apparently. There aren’t any security cameras. And apparently I’m now flagged as a _problem tenant_ because they consider me a security risk.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But that’s it,” Alex sits back, crosses his arms, “We got a rough and pretty damn generic profile of a dude. Police can’t pick up any prints. No DNA anywhere. Nothing.”

He looks a little frustrated, and Logan feels his pain.

“Has Carmen said anything about having a lead? That stalker from when he was a teenager, maybe?”

“Yeah, there were issues with that, apparently. Kid was also a minor when it happened, so the records are sealed. Restraining order lapsed after five years. Last record they found of him, he lived somewhere across the country. I think she tried to elevate the case up, but without any evidence that it’s him, it’s kinda hard.”

“…has anyone questioned Julian?”

Alex blinks, “Like…that he’s faking it?”

“What? No,” Logan scoffs, “I mean like…Carmen asked him if had any idea who it could be, right? But has he actually talked to a real investigator? Because maybe he noticed something that he didn’t think was weird, you know?”

“Hm,” Alex frowns, “I don’t think he has, actually? I think Carmen’s been dealing with all that. I could suggest it…”

“Or we could ask him.”

“…you think he’d let us? He’s been moody lately…”

“If it ends this, I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”

Logan stands, makes his way upstairs and knocks on Julian’s door.

“Jules? Could we talk to you for a minute?”

There’s a beat of silence before the door opens, and Julian peers up at him.

“Did something happen?” He asks, looking a little wary.

“No, nothing new,” Logan promises, “We just thought you might be able to help us get somewhere?”

Julian frowns at him, “I told Carmen I don’t know anything. If I had any idea who was threatening me, I’d tell you.”

“Just humor us?”

Alex looks mildly surprised when Julian follows Logan downstairs, like he hadn’t expected Logan to actually convince Julian to talk. They sit at Julian’s dining table, and Julian glances between the two.

“I really don’t know anything,” he says again, “I wish I could suddenly remember the crazed fan who walked up to me on set and threatened me or something, but nothing like that happened. It kinda feels like this whole thing came out of nowhere.”

“Well let’s walk through this anyway,” Alex grabs a tablet off the table, opens to a notes app, “I know you’ve told us before, but when did it start?”

Julian lets out a breath, “Um. Around October, I guess? Right after casting for the movie was announced. I got a letter basically demanding I pull out, but we kind of just figured it was a homophobia thing.”

“When did you realize it wasn’t?”

“Few weeks later. Daniel got a letter too, basically that if he touched me there’d be hell to pay.”

“And that’s when Carmen hired security?”

Julian frowns, “No. Not at first. I mean, I’ve been getting letters like that since I was a kid, you know?”

“Did anything change around the time you started getting letters?”

“Not really? I mean, I’d just broken up with one of my co-stars, but they’ve already investigated her and that whole thing was mostly for publicity, anyway.”

Alex jots that down, “Was that Savannah?”

“Yeah. I really don’t think she has anything to do with this, though. She really didn’t seem into it enough to go off the rails.”

“Just being thorough,” Alex hums, thinks a little, “So you had no security, when all this started?”

“No bodyguards. I mean, different sets would sometimes hire people to watch us at work, but nobody that followed me home or anything.”

“Who _was_ working for you?”

“Carmen. Chris. He had to cut back hours around November, maybe, and that’s when Carmen hired Lionel,” Julian ticks off the names on his fingers, “There was a personal trainer - Jason. My mom’s nutritionist, Christina. Carmen’s had a couple assistants, but nobody who really stuck around for very long. Liam. Nicki. ”

Alex writes all that down, and Julian frowns.

“You don’t think someone who worked for me is doing this, do you?”

Alex hesitates before answering, “It would make sense,” he says, “They got into the house. They knew were the main power lines for the house were. They knew your schedule. It’s just a theory, of course, but it’s worth looking into.”

He looks over the notes he’s taken, and Logan takes the opportunity to lean forward.

“Julian,” he says, “I know you might not want to talk about it, but what do you remember about the last stalker you had?”

Julian shrugs, “I don’t know if you could even call that a stalker, really? He sent me a couple letters, then broke into my trailer. Security pulled him off before I even got a good look at him, really. Honestly I think it was just an overzealous fan. It happens, sometimes. Teenage girls trying to kiss me at the mall, you know? Weirdos. I think sometimes people see celebrities and their brain just shuts off.”

“But is there anything you remember about it? At all?”

“His name was Adam,” Julian says, “Clavell, I think? I didn’t have to go to the court date for the restraining order, so I didn’t really see him. Dark hair though, I’m pretty sure. Taller than me. Really strong.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“Honestly? Probably not. It all happened so quick, and I just wanted him gone, you know?” He hesitates, looking at the look of mild disappointment on Logan’s face, “You don’t think it’s the same person, do you? That was years ago.”

“I just think it’s worth looking into.”

“Is there anyone else?” Alex asks, “Anyone you think might have it out for you?”

Julian shakes his head, “Normal Hollywood rivalries, you know? But Carmen’s already looked into the major ones. And I don’t think I’ve ever pissed anyone off enough they want me _dead_.”

“I don’t think they do, though,” Logan says, “Want _you_ dead. They’re going after other people, people they think you have a relationship with. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“Well that’s comforting. It’s just my friends and family I should worry about.”

He leans back in his chair, rests one foot on the seat and hugs his knee to his chest. Logan looks over at Alex’s notes, tries to think of anything else that might help.

“I wish they would just tell me what they want.”

Logan and Alex look up, “What do you mean?”

Julian’s eyes are unfocused, staring blankly at the wall, “What they want, you know? I know you guys are probably the don’t-negotiate-with-terrorists type, but at this point I think I’d do whatever they want to just end this.”

“Well it won’t come down to that,” Logan promises, “We’re gonna figure this out.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Logan and Alex share a look. Alex starts to pack his things, avoiding Julian’s eyes, “I’m gonna look into some of these people. You alright here, Wright?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He takes the tablet with him, and Logan waits for the door to close before reaching for Julian’s hand.

“Hey,” he says, trying for a reassuring tone, “We’re really going to figure this out, okay? Soon. I promise.”

“It’s been _months_ ,” Julian says, “you guys have been trying, and Carmen’s been trying, and the fucking police can’t find anything. Maybe this guy’s just too good.”

“Maybe we’re just not looking in the right place.”

“You guys basically just listed everyone around me except for the two of you. Pretty sure Alex isn’t obsessed with me. Pretty sure you wouldn’t try to kill your own best friend.”

“Maybe it’s just a total stranger,” Logan says.

“Well that narrows it down.”

“Well Alex and I are going to look into everyone, alright? It’ll be okay.”

“Maybe I should just make myself as undesirable as possible. Gain a ton of weight. Get a shitty haircut. Grow a mustache and a goatee.”

Logan cracks a smile at that, “You’d still have that ass, though.”

“Plastic surgery, then.”

“The reverse Kardashian.”

“Everyone’s goals, right?”

He raises his eyes to Logan’s, gives him the smallest of smiles. His hand shifts in Logan’s, turns over and spreads his fingers to twine through Logan’s. He squeezes, just a little.

“You doing okay?” Logan asks, “I know you had a nightmare last night.”

“It’s pretty much nightly, now. But I’m fine. As fine as I can be, at least.”

“I know you don’t wanna talk…”

“I don’t.”

“I told you how I feel, Julian.”

“And I told _you_ I don’t wanna risk it. Someone already tried to kill you because I made a _joke_.”

“We’re in your house. Nobody’s here.”

“Just…” Julian pulls his hand away, “Just not now, okay? Please.”

Logan nods, watching as Julian withdraws on him, “Okay. But I mean it. If you need to talk about anything. I kind of live here now, so I’m pretty available.”

“You don’t have to stay all the time, you know. If you wanna go out, or something. You don’t have to be stuck here all the time.”

“It’s not like I have a ton of friends trying to hang out with me. Honestly the only thing I really miss is my piano.”

“I have a keyboard, in the studio. I know it’s not the same…”

“Julian. It’s fine. I’m fine. I promise.”

“I just feel like I trapped you here.”

“You didn’t do anything. I like being here. I care about you.”

They lock eyes. Julian’s lips part just slightly, and Logan finds himself leaning forward…

Julian stands up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over, “I’m gonna go shower. You can use my card if you wanna order food, or something. It’s fine.”

He tosses his wallet down on the table and takes off. Logan listens to the sound of his steps up the stairs, the familiar echoing click of his bedroom door shutting.

Logan tries not to think about it too hard.

He knows Julian’s not in a great place right now, knows how scared he is of something else happening. He’s seen Julian checking up on people, glimpsed over his shoulder to find him scrolling through Clark’s Instagram feed, Cameron Pike’s Twitter, even Liam’s Facebook page. Julian’s shoulders relax every single time he sees a recent post from them, every time he sees an update from someone he cares about that proves they’re okay.

Still, Logan can take care of himself.

He heads into the guest room he’s been staying in, throws himself across the bed and grabs his laptop off the nightstand. His fingers hesitate over the keyboard, and he types _Adam Clavell_ into the search bar.

He ignores the first few results. There’s a lawyer by that name, someone living in Rhode Island, but a quick check on that website yield the picture of someone much too old to be the same Adam. Some consultant in Australia, a carpenter in Kentucky.

 _Adam Clavell California_ , he types next. Still nothing.

_Adam Clavell restraining order_

_Adam Clavell stalker_

_Adam Clavell Julian Larson_

It shouldn’t be surprising, that he can’t find damning results on Google. Still, Logan half-hoped for some miraculous breakthrough, to find the mugshot of a man escaped from prison or something equally helpful.

He’s about to push his laptop away when, on the third page of search results, he finds a link to a Julian Larson fansite. It’s obviously old, the layout outdated and too bright, most of the links broken. But down at the bottom, in small font, are the words “ _Site run by Adam L. Clavell.”_

Logan adds the middle initial, runs another search.

He still gets nothing, and huffs out a frustrated sigh. He shoves his laptop aside, buries his face in his arms.

Then he gets an idea.

A ridiculous, unbelievably stupid idea.

He’s dialing before he can think about it, holding the phone to his ear and listening to it ring.

And ring, and ring.

Just when he’s about to give up, the call connects.

“This is John Wright.”

“…hi, dad.”

“…Logan.”

“I need a favor.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“So you call me, after five years of silence. You ask _me_ for a favor, after that stunt you pulled. And you expect me to do whatever ridiculous favor you’re about to ask?”

“I’ll call Michelle. I know she’s been trying to get in contact with me. I know she’s upset. I’ll call her.”

“Weekly.”

“…monthly.”

“Biweekly, then,” John says firmly, “and you’ll send her a card on her birthday.”

“Deal.”

John sighs, and Logan can picture him sitting at his desk, the way his eyes shift to the cabinet he hides his best scotch in.

“What do you need? A ride out of Los Angeles?”

Logan laughs, “Should’ve known you were still keeping track of me.”

“A celebrity bodyguard, Logan, really? With _my_ name?”

“He’s why I need a favor.”

“Well I can only imagine how fun this will be, then.”

“He’s being threatened. The guy that’s doing it has already tried to kill two people. The police can’t figure it out.”

“Shocker,” John says flatly, “That Hollywood can’t get their shit together to find one man.”

Logan ignores him, “You still have buddies at the FBI, right? People who’ll ignore protocol if you ask nicely enough?”

“Depends on what I’m asking.”

“I just need you to look into someone for me. He had a stalker years ago, but he was a minor and the records got sealed. I just wanna figure out where the guy is. Just to see if it could be him.”

“…what’s the name?”

“Adam L. Clavell,” Logan says, “I can’t find anything online, but I’m pretty sure the restraining order would’ve been signed by a judge in Los Angeles.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’m not making any promises.”

“I understand. Thanks, dad.”

He’s about to hang up, but John clears his throat and speaks again.

“Do you…do you need money, or anything?”

“No. Got a real job and everything. Regular paychecks. Health insurance.”

“Logan…”

“Just look into Clavell, please? I’ll call Michelle this weekend.”

He actually does hang up this time, breathes heavily for a minute. It’s the first time he’s spoken to his father in _years_. It’s weird, hearing his voice. Weirder that it hadn’t taken more groveling to get John to agree to his favor.

But it’s the best course of action he has. He knows how long this kind of investigation can take, the kind of bureaucratic bullshit Carmen’s likely going through to get this escalated to authorities higher than the police. He knows the kind of connections his father has, the mutual favors owed to various high-up officials in all kinds of three-letter agencies. If Adam Clavell is still in the country, John will be able to find him. Logan knows it.

He leaves his phone in the room and makes his way back downstairs, suddenly in desperate need of a drink.

Julian must be on the same brainwave — he’s standing in front of his liquor cabinet when Logan enters the kitchen, takes one look at Logan’s face and grabs the bottle of scotch he hasn’t touched himself.

“Feel free to drink from the bottle, if you need it,” he says, “I’m not a huge fan.”

“For someone who doesn’t like scotch, you sure did spend a lot of money on this bottle.”

“Well you said you liked it,” Julian says simply, reaching for a bottle of rosé, “My dad’s a fan too, so I asked him what was best.”

“He has good taste.”

“I guess if you like the taste of motor oil.”

“You’re drinking pink wine. That bottle’s a _screw-off_ , you didn’t even spend the extra five bucks for the stuff with a cork.”

Julian makes a face, “What’s the point? It all just takes like grape anyway.”

“You’re a terrible rich person, you know? You have _no_ taste.”

“Decent taste in men, I think.”

“Debatable.”

“You saying you’re not up to standard?”

Logan pauses with the bottle halfway to his lips. Julian’s leaning back against the counter, his own bottle resting on a propped-up knee. He smiles, barely, drops his gaze to the ground.

“It’s not that I don’t want this, you know,” he says softly, “Because I do. A lot. I just…”

“You’re just scared. Of something happening to me.”

Julian nods, “And I…you’ve made it pretty obvious you don’t really trust my decision-making ability right now. I get it. I’m a mess.”

“But when this is over?”

“I guess we’ll see. I’m mostly expecting for you to run as far as you can the second I don’t need bodyguards anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Their eyes lock for a second time that day. Julian doesn’t look away this time, and Logan doesn’t either. Instead, he sets the bottle of scotch down, drifts across the kitchen and raises one hand. His fingers brush against the soft skin of Julian’s face, and Julian lets his eyes flutter shut as he leans into the warmth of Logan’s hand.

“Jules,” Logan says, softly, “I promise you. I’m not going anywhere.”


	16. I don't lose sight of what I want

“I’m bored.”

Logan continues his typing, hums a little bit and double-checks his math. He’s fully aware of Julian’s eyes on him, can hear the tapping of Julian’s fingers against the table. He ignores it. There’s a heavy sigh, when he doesn’t respond, and Julian speaks a little louder.

“I said I’m _bored_ ,” he repeats, sounding a little annoyed.

“You should really pick up a hobby, then,” Logan suggests, trying to hold back a smirk, “Needlepoint is trendy again, I hear.”

“I’m not fucking learning _needlepoint_.”

“Knitting? Juggling? Bullet journaling?”

“What the fuck is a _bullet journal_?”

“Don’t know. Go find out, that should take up some time.”

“Or _you_ could entertain me.”

“I’m busy. I told you, I’m paying bills.”

“Why don’t you just set it on autopay like the rest of the modern world?”

Logan leans forward, grabs another stack of envelopes, “Because a few months after my dad disowned me, I noticed my cell phone bill had a bunch of extra charges that they said were _mistakes_. So now I look through everything first, so they can’t fuck me over.”

“Oh my god, are you still poor?” Julian looks mildly horrified, “Do I not pay you enough? Do you need a raise?”

“You pay me plenty. It’s just habit now.”

“No, but I pay you enough, right?” Julian reaches for the stack of papers on the table, rifles through them looking for evidence of a paystub. Logan rolls his eyes and snatches them back, glaring at the mess Julian’s made of his very intricate filing system.

“Carmen’s given me two raises since I started. Besides, once this is all over I fully plan on being your live-in boyfriend and living off your success.”

Julian doesn’t have a witty retort for that one, and Logan looks up, half-wondering if he’s gone too far. But Julian’s smiling, softly, his eyes shining a little as he looks across the table at Logan.

“Boyfriend,” he repeats, quietly, “I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend in a really long time.”

“I didn’t mean to label something that doesn’t exist yet. If you’d rather we keep it casual…”

“No I…I think I’m past the whole casual thing,” Julian admits, looking away, “Once all this is over…I think I’d want more. If you do.”

“I told you, Julian. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Even when I’m being a spoiled brat?”

“I’ve had to carry your drunk ass to bed before. Nearly broken my back on the sofa so you could sleep in _my_ bed. I can deal with the spoiled brat,” Logan glances up, smiles a little, “But for the record, I like the real you better.”

Julian looks a little flustered at that. He clears his throat, leans back in his chair.

“Just…finish paying your bills, alright? So you can entertain me.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

He turns back to his work, frowns and double-checks the math on his utility payments. He can hear Julian get antsy again, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not until Logan finishes his work and sets his laptop and calculator aside that Julian speaks again.

“Is there _anything_ I’m allowed to do?” He asks, sounding a little desperate, “I can’t just sit here all day.”

“I can’t,” Logan says, feeling almost guilty, “You know I can’t. It’s not safe. But soon—“

“You keep saying that. _Soon_. But we still have no idea who’s doing it.”

“We will. Soon. I’m working on it.”

“What do you do?” Julian switches course abruptly, “When Alex comes over to give you a break. What do you do?”

“Go the gym, usually. Shopping, sometimes. Went to the movies, once.”

“Well,” Julian sighs, “Pretty sure I can’t do any of those things. Carmen already yelled at me for maxing out my credit card on online shopping.”

Logan’s eyes widen, “You maxed your card?”

“One of them.”

“…what kind of credit limit do you have?”

“Five hundred thousand, I think?”

“What the hell did you spend five hundred thousand dollars on?”

Julian shrugs, “I don’t know. Clothes. Shoes. My moisturizer is expensive. It's from Paris.”

“ _Julian_.”

“And I…I might have bought a piano.”

Logan freezes. He blinks once, twice, staring as Julian fidgets awkwardly across the table.

“You bought a piano…?”

“Not for _you_ ,” Julian says quickly, “I’ve been meaning to learn for years. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Logan’s lips curve upward, “You seem to have a knack for collecting talents. I could teach you, when it gets here.”

“Well I guess that’d be one way to alleviate my boredom. It should be here by Friday, I think.”

He sighs and moves to stand up, plodding into the kitchen. Logan can hear cabinets opening and closing, another sigh as Julian examines the food he has in the house. He gets a sudden idea — one he should’ve had _ages_ ago, really, and perks up.

“Hey, Jules? I do have something to entertain you, actually.”

Julian pokes his head through the doorway, looking almost excited, “You’re going to sneak me out? I have disguises. Wigs. If I wear baggy clothes people can’t tell, sometimes.”

“No,” Logan says, “I’m not gonna risk that. But you have a gym somewhere here, right? I know your personal trainer used to work out of the house.”

“By the garage, yeah,” Julian says. Then he scowls a little, and his eyes narrow, “You’re not gonna make me work out, are you? I’m not working right now. This is basically my only chance to eat what I want and not care what I look like.”

“I’m going to teach you self-defense.”

Logan reaches for Julian, wraps long fingers around his wrist and pulls him down the hall as he whines.

“This is why I have bodyguards,” Julian argues, “Besides, I’ve _taken_ self-defense before.”

“You’ve taken film set self-defense,” Logan corrects, “That’s all about how it looks on camera, not how effective it actually is.”

“ _Bodyguards.”_

 _“_ Still a useful thing to know. Besides, what if it turns out _I’m_ the stalker? You have to learn how to take me down.”

“I’ll just slip peanuts into your protein shake,” Julian says drily, “It wouldn’t even be hard.”

“Alright princess, it won’t always be that easy. Come on, I’ll go easy on you.”

They step into Julian’s gym, and Logan takes a moment to look around. It’s a nice set up - a lightly padded floor, one wall covered with mirrors. There’s a treadmill in the corner, a row of strength machines and weightlifting equipment lining one half of the room. The other half is clear save for a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, and Logan leads Julian over.

“So I know a couple different forms of martial arts, but I don’t really know how to _teach_ it,” Logan admits, turning to face Julian, “So I guess just…try coming at me? I’ll show you what to change, and then we can work on blocking.”

Julian looks unamused. He crosses his arms over his chest, cocks one hip and stares, “You want me to just…what, punch you?”

“You can try.”

He makes a face, but Logan doesn’t budge. Julian finally uncurls his arms, takes a half-assed fighting stance and throws a fist forward. Logan catches it without flinching, raising an eyebrow.

“What were you aiming for, exactly? Try again.”

Julian looks annoyed, but resumes his stance, throwing his hand forward once more.

This time, when Logan catches it, he adjusts Julian’s hand, uncurling his fingers just slightly.

“Better aim that time,” he says, “Nose is always a good target, especially with someone taller than you. Upward hit at the right angle is a fucking bitch. But you’re projecting way too much, I can see it coming before you even move.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to just…fine, let me try again.”

He looks a little more focused, this time. Logan watches as Julian squares his shoulders and spreads his feet a little, sees the way Julian’s eyes narrow in concentration. He catches the slight smirk on Julian’s lips, and knows exactly what’s coming. Julian shifts forward on his right foot, then immediately switches to the left, swinging his arm forward with as much strength as he can muster. Logan catches it, uses Julian’s imbalance to knock him to the ground. He grins, lightly resting his weight on top of Julian’s chest.

“You’re an asshole,” Julian spits, shoving at him, “You’re supposed to be _helping_.”

Logan laughs, jumps to his feet and holds out a hand for Julian. He ignores it, pushes himself off the ground and stretches out his arms.

“You’re right,” Logan says, “Come on, try again. I’ll be nice this time.”

He walks through a few different techniques, adjusts Julian’s form and gives him strategies to break from different holds and methods of attack. Julian’s a remarkably quick study. He’s not as strong as Logan is, of course, but he’s got agility and flexibility. He manages to take Logan down more than once, looking increasingly smug every time he does.

“Gotcha,” he says with a smirk, straddling Logan’s waist, “You know, this was definitely one of your better ideas. I like seeing you like this.”

They’re both sweating heavily, chests heaving as they pant for breath. Julian’s hair is plastered to his forehead, his face as pink as his smiling lips. It’s a familiar position, Julian seated against Logan’s hips, and he can’t help but think of this position in a very different setting.

Julian seems to be thinking the same thing. His expression changes minutely, his hips shifting a little against Logan’s.

“Logan…” he breathes, and Logan brings his hands to Julian’s hips, squeezes just slightly.

The sound of a throat clearing startles them both, and Logan moves fast — he flips Julian over, puts his body firmly in front of him and faces the door.

Lionel’s standing in the doorway, eyes slightly narrowed as he looks at the pair.

“I texted,” he says, “Both of you. Rang the doorbell a couple times.”

“How did you get in here?”

“I have a key,” he says slowly, as if Logan’s the most idiotic person he’s ever encountered, “Carmen has me deliver things sometimes. That’s why I’m here.”

“You could’ve just left it on the table like normal,” Julian hauls himself up from the ground, brushing himself off, “I would’ve found it eventually.”

“I heard banging. Thought I’d make sure you were okay.”

“We’re fine,” Logan says firmly, “Though I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be wandering around Julian’s house without anyone knowing.”

“Oh my god, relax,” Julian rolls his eyes, “You heard him, he was just checking on me. We’re fine, Lionel. Impromptu self-defense class.”

“Well Carmen sent a few scripts over. Nothing that films any time soon, of course, but she thought picking might cheer you up.”

Julian does brighten up a little bit, practically skipping past Logan, “There better be something good,” he says, grabbing the package from Lionel’s hands, “Whatever I do next is gonna be huge, you just wait.”

He walks off with the scripts, and Lionel eyes Logan.

“You’re supposed to be keeping him safe,” he says sourly, “Not fooling around with him.”

“It was a self-defense lesson. We weren’t doing anything.”

“Does he know that?”

Something about his tone rubs Logan the wrong way. He strides to the doorway, pushes Lionel into the hallway.

“I get that you have some sort of crush on him, but Julian’s an adult. He makes his own choices. And _you’ve_ overstayed your welcome.”

“He’ll get bored of you,” Lionel tells him, even as Logan directs him to the door, “He always does. Every single one.”

“I’m an adult, too,” he opens the front door, gestures for Lionel to leave, “Thanks for the scripts. I’m sure Julian appreciates it.”

He shuts the door after Lionel, pulls the chain and both deadbolts and sets the alarm. Lionel knows better than barging into the house unannounced like that, and Logan has half a mind to complain to Carmen. If he’d been followed, if anyone had seen him slip into the house and gone after him…

Logan doesn’t want to think about what could have happened.

Julian doesn’t seem to share his worries, though. He’s already spread the scripts across his dining table, is flipping through pages like a madman.

“She sent over some cliche action movie project. I’m not taking the Tom Cruise route, I’ve told her a thousand times,” Julian tosses the script aside, picks up another and rifles through, “Ooh, this one’s _dark_ , I like it.”

He settles back into his chair, focuses in on the script in his hands. He barely acknowledges Logan when he mentions taking a shower, just nods slightly and wags one finger his direction.

Logan leaves the bathroom door open as he always does, enough that he’d be able to hear the sound of Julian calling for help if he needed it. He showers quickly, towels off and looks at himself in the mirror.

He’s gotten a bit of a tan, living in Los Angeles. His hair’s grown out a little longer than he prefers to keep it. He’d cut it, but Julian seems to like it — he runs his fingers through it when they sleep in the same bed, twirling the blonde strands around his fingers. He elects to leave it loose, for now, pulls on his clothing and steps out of the bathroom with his hair falling around his ears.

“Thought you were supposed to be living the rock star life, Sawyer,” he hears from the living room. He pauses in the hallway, an unwarranted and unwelcome twist of jealousy rising in his chest when he hears Julian’s voice soften around Clark’s name. He can't hear Clark's voice through Julian's phone, but he can picture a thousand sweet nothings, can  _see_ Clark Sawyer standing in Julian's house like he has a hundred times before.

“Man, this whole lifestyle is wasted on you, you know that?” Julian laughs lightly, and Logan leans against the hallway wall, listening, “No drinking. No partying. No groupies.”

Clark’s somewhere in East Asia, Logan’s pretty sure, still on tour with his band. Julian’s texted him a few times, but this might be the first time they’ve actually spoken since he left.

“No, I’m still safe,” Julian’s saying now, “They’re taking care of me. Logan moved in, actually.”

There’s a pause, while he listens, and another breathy laugh.

“We’re not like that,” he says, and Logan’s stomach coils until Julian continues, “Not yet, at least. But I think...he actually likes me. For real.”

Logan softens, smiling to himself and leaning nearer to the door when Julian’s voice lowers.

“…I do. I never really understood what everyone was talking about before, you know? But I do. With him.”

He can only imagine the other half of the conversation, but he likes the happy note in Julian’s voice, as he tells Clark about Logan.

“Look, I know I make terrible decisions about this kind of stuff. But he’s…he’s a good guy. He hasn’t asked for anything. No money, or anything. I told him I want to take it slow, and he— _yes_ , I’m the one taking it slow, fuck off.”

Julian breaks into another burst of laughter, cursing at Clark as he giggles. Logan takes the opportunity to re-enter the room, makes sure to make enough noise that Julian’s aware that he’s there. He looks up, smiling when he meets Logan’s eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll take care of myself. I will. Promise. Okay. Have fun on the rest of your tour, Clark. Bye.”

He hangs up, fixes Logan with a suspicious glare, “Were you listening to that whole thing?”

“I was showering,” Logan says innocently, “See look, my hair’s still wet and everything.”

He bends at the waist, shaking his head violently in Julian’s direction. Water sprays over him, and Julian shrieks, diving out of his chair to deflect Logan’s attack.

 _“_ You _ass_ ,” he yelps, rubbing stray drops off his face, “You’re the absolute worst.”

“Pretty cute though, right?”

“The way a golden retriever is cute, maybe.”

“Well I’ll take that as a compliment. Everyone loves dogs.”

“I’m more of a cat person, actually. Used to be a hedgehog person, but then I found out the hard way they have a maximum life span of five years and that’s just not fair.”

“Am I as cute as a hedgehog, then?”

Julian tilts his head, as if he’s considering it, “Maybe.”

“Anything I can do to turn that into a yes?”

“You could…go pour me a glass of wine. Then join me on the couch for cheesy movies. I’m thinking _Princess Bride_ , maybe?”

Logan rolls his eyes but steps into the kitchen, automatically moving for the bottle of rosé he knows is Julian’s favorite.

“Popcorn, too!” Julian calls.

“As you wish.”

He sets the bottle on the countertop and opens the walk-in pantry, scanning over the shelves until he finds the box of microwaveable popcorn. As it pops, he screws open the bottle, turns to reach for the cabinet that holds Julian’s wine glasses and pauses. There’s a collection of bottles on the counter in front of him, mostly various vitamins and supplements for Julian, but also the amber bottle of Logan’s medication. The lid’s on it a little crooked, and Logan frowns. He’d thought he’d secured it properly this morning, but he had been a little distracted by Julian burning the pancakes he’d attempted to make. He reaches for the bottle now, twists it fully shut and sets it back down beside Julian’s vitamin E supplements.

The microwave dings, and Logan pours two glasses of wine quickly. The popcorn gets dumped into a single bowl, and he juggles it with the wine as he heads back out to Julian.

“You put extra salt on it, right?”

“No,” Logan says, dumping the bowl into Julian’s lap, “How humiliating would it be if after all this you died from too much sodium?”

“I’m _twenty-five_ , not sixty.”

“If you want salt, go get it yourself.”

Julian pouts a little but makes no effort to get up. Instead, he leans back against the pillows and throws his legs across Logan’s lap, holding the bowl between them.

They don’t make it through the movie.

Not even halfway through, Julian shifts closer, resting his head against Logan’s chest. Logan’s hand drifts up before he even realizes, fingers tangling in Julian’s hair and carding through the soft strands. Julian makes a soft, content noise, tilts his head up and blinks slowly up at Logan. His lips are parted, just slightly, and Logan can’t hold back.

He’d blame the wine, if he’d had more than one glass. Julian tastes like it though, sweet and fruity and _delicious_. One of his arms slides up around Logan’s neck, using the new grip as leverage to pull himself closer. He’s almost fully in Logan’s lap now, his ass resting over Logan’s sudden rising arousal.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, breaking the kiss, “We can’t. We’re taking it slow, remember?”

Julian doesn’t budge, presses his lips against Logan’s jawline and nips lightly, “This is slow. It’s just _kissing_. We’re both fully clothed and everything.”

It’s not an incorrect assessment, and Logan hesitates just briefly before he kisses Julian again, sliding his hands to Julian’s waist. It gets heated again, and fast, and before long Julian pulls away with a small smile.

“Sorry,” he says softly, dragging his thumb across Logan’s now-swollen lips, “I thought I could control myself a little better than that.”

“I thought I could, too.”

Julian huffs out a laugh and lightly presses their foreheads together, “Well maybe we should hold off on this, then. Until this is all over.”

“Maybe we should.”

He regrets the words as Julian slides off his lap, as he takes a step back and drops his hand from Logan’s face.

“Do you…” Logan clears his throat, shifts awkwardly and attempts to cover the obvious tenting in his pants, “Do you need me tonight?”

Julian’s eyes twinkle, “No. I don’t need you.”

Logan nods, tries not to show the sting of rejection he feels.

“But I _want_ you,” Julian continues, “If you think we can control ourselves.”

The thing is, Logan can’t control himself. Not now, at least. Not with the still obvious problem in his slacks, or the flush still across Julian’s cheeks, or the way his lips still tingle with the memory of Julian’s mouth.

“…I’ll meet you up there in half an hour,” he says, ignoring the smug look in Julian’s eyes, “I have to um…run security checks, first.”

“Well I’ll see you in half an hour, then.”

He can’t help but watch as Julian walks away, eyes fixed on the slight sway to his hips as he ascends the stairs. Once Julian’s out of sight he shuts his eyes tightly and tries to get himself under control. It takes a few minutes; Julian always manages to get him wound up without too much effort. As soon as he’s able to stand, he actually _does_ do his security checks. The alarm’s set, the doors and windows locked. There’s nothing suspicious on the cameras. His eyes rise to the monitor showing Julian’s bedroom.

Julian knows he’s watching. He _must_.

He’s changed into pajamas, soft-looking pants and a loose cotton t-shirt. His body is stretched out across the bed, his face turned towards the camera. Those still-red lips are curved into the smallest of smiles, and Logan almost feels like Julian’s somehow looking at him.

“That was longer than half an hour,” Julian says, when Logan slips into his bedroom. He’s still stretched on top of the blankets, one arm across the empty side of the bed.

“Had to make sure you’re safe, didn’t I?”

He lifts Julian’s arm from the mattress and slides beside him, dropping the arm atop his waist. Julian curls into him, pulls the blankets up around them both and tucks his head under Logan’s chin.

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To keep me safe.”

“Do you feel safe?”

“I do. With you.”

"Well good," Logan smiles, presses his lips to the top of Julian's head, "Because you are. I won't let anyone touch you. I promise."


	17. oh baby, it's a long way down

“So,” Alex says when he comes through the door, “How excited is he? Scale of one to ten?”

Logan grins, glancing up at the stairs to make sure Julian's not in earshot. “Twelve? He made pancakes this morning.”

“…Julian Larson made pancakes.”

“Well. He burnt pancakes. Then we ordered doughnuts,” Logan cringes a little, thinking about the acrid smell he’d woken up to. He’d thought the house was on _fire_ , at first, had rushed downstairs yelling for Julian and found the actor looking incredibly sheepish as he dumped a pan of blackened dough into the trash. The doughnuts after may have been a little too much sugar — Logan’s stomach aches a little, and he resents his earlier self for scarfing down half a box of sprinkle-covered pastries.

There’s a loud bang from upstairs, and Alex looks momentarily concerned before Logan waves it off.

“I already checked. He’s tearing his whole closet apart. Apparently he doesn’t like the shirt they sent over with his suit.”

There’s a loud groan of frustration, followed by another bang.

“All of my shoes are _scuffed_ , what the hell,” Julian yells from upstairs, and Logan holds back a snigger.

“Well at least he’s getting out of the house,” Alex offers, looking amused, “Even if there’s gonna be a few dings in his wall. You look great, by the way.”

He eyes Logan’s suit — his nicest one, one of the few remnants of his past life as heir to the Wright political dynasty. It still fits remarkably well, and the look on Julian’s face when he set eyes on it was well worth the dry-cleaning bill.

Alex is dressed up as well, of course. Despite their status as lowly bodyguards, Carmen had made it very clear that it’d be taboo for them to show up to an event like this in anything but their finest attire. Still, it's obvious Alex's suit is off-the-racks, especially when viewed beside Logan's custom tailored ensemble.

“I still don’t understand why Carmen signed off on this,” Alex says, and Logan shrugs.

“Apparently he RSVP’d almost a year ago.”

“To an _art gallery_ opening? I didn’t realize that was his thing. He doesn't actually have that many rich people hobbies, far as I could tell.”

“I asked. He said he knows the artist being featured. Clark’s stepbrother, I guess?”

“Oh, really?” Alex looks surprised, “I thought that kid was a clothing designer. Weird.”

“I think he mostly just wants to get out of the house,” Logan admits.

“Makes sense. This must be killing him.”

“Oh, so he spends all day talking about how bored he is when he’s with you, too?”

“No,” Alex smirks a little, eyeing Logan, “He usually stays upstairs, when I’m here. You’re the only one special enough to be graced by his presence.”

“I’m not…we just watch movies, sometimes. And I’ve been teaching him self-defense.”

“Oh really?”

“ _Just_ self-defense,” Logan insists, though he knows it’s futile. Alex’s grin gives himself away.

“He seems happier,” he says, “You both do.”

“Look, it’s not…”

“You don’t have to defend yourself,” Alex interrupts, “I told you, I don’t care. He’s a lot more tolerable when he’s happy, anyway.”

There’s another loud bang followed by some very colorful cursing, and both men wince.

“Mostly tolerable, at least.”

Julian appears not long after, four separate ties draped over his shoulders.

“Which one?” He demands, “I haven’t been seen in public in weeks, so there’s going to be a crazy amount of photographs and I have to look _flawless_.”

“Oh man, this is _not_ my area of expertise,” Alex says, turning away. Logan laughs lightly and steps forward, examining the selection of fabric. There’s a nice blue one, a dove grey tie, a green one with gold stitching.

“This one,” Logan says, selecting the deep red tie draped over Julian’s arm. He moves it to Julian’s neck, gently slides it beneath the collar of his shirt and loops it into the fanciest knot he knows before smoothing down Julian’s collar, “I’d definitely say you look flawless.”

“I think you’re full of shit," Julian says with a slight smirk, "But thank you.”

Logan takes a step back, mostly for Alex's sake. He clears his throat, tries to wipe the soft smile from his face.

“Carmen did have some rules, for tonight. Just so you know.”

Julian groans, “Of course she did. No fun? Home by nine? Have to stay sober?”

“She did say she doesn’t want you getting drunk,” Logan says, apologetically, “Apparently you’ve had a tendency to run off in the past. I think she set the limit at two glasses of champagne.”

“I only ever ran off to get _laid_ ,” Julian argues, “I’m not going to do that now.”

“Oh?" Logan lowers his voice, quiet enough that Alex _might_ not hear, "Are my cuddling skills that good?”

“Fuck off, you know exactly why. What other _rules_ do I have?”

“…home by ten.”

“Is she serious?! The thing doesn’t even start until eight!”

“So you have two hours. That’s better than being cooped up all night, right?”

“I guess,” Julian admits reluctantly, “I don’t even _like_ gallery openings, really. I just thought it’d be nice to have a few hours out in public again.”

“We’ll make the best of it. If the food sucks we can stop for burgers after, even,” Logan smiles, gently cupping Julian’s face in his hands, “It’ll be fun. I swear.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

“I mean it. Now go fix your hair, Lionel’ll be here in ten minutes.”

Julian reaches for his hair, makes a strangled sound in his throat when he realizes it’s still sticking up in every direction. He runs off to the sound of Logan’s laughter, dives into his bathroom with the obvious intent of taming it into submission.

When Logan turns, Alex is smirking at him from across the room.

“Thought I’d left, didn’t you?”

“Oh, fuck off."

“Well, Romeo, Carmen just texted us. Said the security at the venue is pretty tight, but she still wants us both to keep eyes on him the whole time. We’re gonna have Lionel drop us off right by the entrance, and the door guy agreed to clear a path for us before we even let him out of the car.”

“Sounds like she’s gotten this pretty locked down,” Logan says, “It’s going to be fine. Just a couple hours, he’ll mingle with some art snobs. Totally fine.”

“I don’t know,” Alex grimaces, “ _Art snobs_ sounds pretty not fun to me.”

“You have to just shut your brain off. Pretend you understand what they’re talking about and then repeat what they said but rearrange the words a little, they’ll think you’re a genius. Half the people who show up to these things don’t actually know shit about art, they just want to show off how rich they are.”

Alex looks intrigued, “Kinda sounds like you know from experience.”

“…I may have been to one of these before.”

“To a gallery opening? Didn’t think that was your deal.”

“It’s not,” Logan admits, “My stepmother was kind of into the whole thing, though. I usually just went to make her happy.”

“Well you can walk me through it, then. Though I’m assuming we’ll mostly just be standing against a wall watching people try to hit on Julian. If you think you can handle that.”

“As long as nobody’s trying to actively hurt him I think I can manage.”

There’s a sudden honk from outside, and Alex strides over to the window and peers through, “Lionel’s here. Mind checking up on Julian? He’s probably on the third attempt of doing his hair the exact same way.”

“I could just shave it off. It’d save time.”

“I’ll give you my next three paychecks if you do.”

Logan laughs and heads upstairs, walks straight to Julian’s door and pokes his head in.

“Hey Jules, the car’s here. You almost ready?”

“I think so,” Julian takes a breath and steps away from his mirror, holding his arms out, “Well? Do I look okay?”

It takes Logan a moment to come up with an answer.

He's seen Julian dressed up before, of course. But that was before all  _this_ started, before he knew what Julian's lips tasted like, what his skin felt like under Logan's hands. He's absolutely stunning, and Logan wants nothing more than to tear that pristine outfit off his body, to press him into the mattress and kiss him until they both lose their breath.

Then his imagination shifts -- he's struck with the sudden image of Julian on his arm, of them walking hand in hand together at one of these events. Of him accompanying Julian to an awards show, proudly applauding as Julian’s name is called. Taking Julian to one of his family’s political galas, smiling as Michelle gushes over how pretty he is. She’d adore him, Logan knows. He's never wanted to introduce anyone to his stepmother before, never daydreamed about something as simple as  _grabbing brunch_ with someone.

“Lo?” Julian tilts his head, looking suddenly unsure, “Is it too much? I could lose the tie…”

“Can I kiss you?”

Julian flushes a little, smiling, “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore? Because neither of us can control ourselves?”

“I’ll do my best,” Logan promises. He steps forward, careful to avoid mussing Julian’s hair or clothes. Julian tilts his head up willingly, letting his eyes flutter closed as Logan leans in. He keeps it soft and light, breaking the kiss just moments after it starts.

“So,” Julian says, a slow smile spreading across his face, “I look okay, then?”

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Julian exhales a little shakily, brings a hand up to brush over his own lips and turns away, “You’re…you’re a lot sometimes, you know that?”

“I’ve been told. I hope for you it’s a lot in a good way.”

“…it is. Definitely good.”

Logan grins. He reaches up, uses the motion of brushing a speck of non-existent dust from Julian’s shoulder as an excuse to brush his fingers across Julian’s skin. Those brown eyes darken just slightly, and Logan takes a step back before one of them can lose control.

“Lionel’s here,” he says, “Alex is ready. Are you?”

“Yeah,” Julian smiles anew, practically giddy at the promise of leaving the house, “I’m definitely ready, let’s go.”

Logan’s right at his heels as he trots down the stairs, stopping to set the alarm system. Julian goes ahead, lets Alex shepherd him into Lionel’s waiting car. Logan punches in the alarm code, shuts the door firmly and turns to join them.

He falters, slightly, suddenly feeling just a little dizzy. The stomachache is still there, a dull and aching pain that has Logan clutching at his belly. He tries to shake it off, blinks slowly a few times before walking over to the car.

“Hey,” Alex says, concerned, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“Fine. I think it’s just those doughnuts Julian ordered earlier. I probably overdid the sugar, you know?”

“You sure? If you’re not feeling well, we can tell Julian…”

“No,” Logan says firmly, “He hasn’t left that house in _weeks_ , I’m not ruining this for him because of indigestion.”

He slides into the car, taking the seat beside Julian. Lionel’s tapping his fingers against the steering wheel up front, an unsteady tempo echoing louder than it should. Logan squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the unwelcome noise. It ebbs, slightly, when Julian drops his hand onto the seat. His fingers brush just slightly against Logan’s, and he tries to focus on that singular brush of skin over anything else.

They arrive at the gallery within a half hour. Alex makes a gesture at the two men guarding the entrance, then waits a beat for them to move into position.

Julian stays pressed between Alex and Logan both, but still turns to smile brightly when someone in the crowd calls his name. There’s a series of flashes, and Logan grits his teeth against the blinding lights, pressing forward until they’re safely inside the building. It’s quieter, inside. There’s a string quartet playing nearby, small groups of people talking in hushed voices, a dozen or so well-dressed women carrying trays of champagne flutes.

“Oh my god, _people_ ,” Julian whispers, “Actual _people_.”

“The fuck are we?” Alex mutters, but Julian doesn’t seem to hear him. He looks around the room, grinning when he sets eyes on a short, curly-haired man standing in front of a large painting.

“Reed!” Julian calls out, and the man visibly jumps before turning around, and Logan nearly freezes in shock.

 _Reed Van Kamp_ steps forward, giving Julian a hesitant smile.

“Julian, hi,” he says, “I didn’t think you’d come. I thought you had some kind of security issue, Clark was mentioning…”

Julian waves it off, “It’s fine. Clark worries, you know? Besides, I know he feels bad that he couldn’t make it. Figured I’d be his stand-in.”

“You didn’t have to!” Reed insists, looking a little embarrassed, “It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure you staying safe is more important.”

“That’s why I brought bodyguards,” Julian gestures at the two men beside him, “Guys, this is Reed Van Kamp, Clark’s stepbrother. He’s been designing my Met Gala outfits since we were both teenagers. Reed, this is Alex and—“

“Logan Wright?” Reed’s brow furrows, and he stares up at Logan with a look of absolute befuddlement.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Julian asks, looking between the two.

“Yeah, Logan went to Dalton with me,” Reed says, “Hang on, did you just call him your _bodyguard_?”

Logan glances over at Alex, who’s staring at this whole interaction like he’s just started a television show six seasons in with no background information. Julian follows his gaze, clears his throat loudly and smiles at Alex.

“Would you mind getting me some champagne?” He asks, “Please?”

Alex glances at the group once more and shrugs before heading off to find one of the servers. Reed still looks confused, and Julian lowers his voice when he speaks next.

“Logan _is_ my bodyguard,” he says, glancing Logan’s way, “Temporarily.”

“It’s a long story,” Logan adds, “Um…”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain,” Reed says quickly, “It’s just…surprising, seeing you here. Um. Long time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. Logan and Reed were never really _close_ , after all, and Logan doesn’t particularly want to explain how he went from spoiled politician’s son to a bodyguard for Hollywood’s favorite celebrities. Reed looks just as awkward as Logan feels, glancing around like he’s praying for someone to drag him away.

Thankfully, Julian notices the tension in the air.

“Well, I just wanted to say congratulations,” he says with a smile, “From Clark, you know? He’s very proud of you.”

Reed beams, “Thank you. I hope you like the exhibit.”

He excuses himself politely, and Julian turns to Logan apologetically.

“I’m so sorry. I had no _idea_ you two knew each other.”

“Don’t, it’s not your fault. There’s no way you could’ve known. I haven’t even seen him in years.”

“…do you want to leave?” Julian asks, looking a little worried, “Because we can. Really.”

“No,” Logan says quickly, “We’ll stay. Besides, Reed’s not the kind of person who’d make a big deal about this. He doesn’t even like me, I'm pretty sure. I doubt he’ll look my way again.”

Julian still looks worried, but Alex conveniently returns, politely lingering just out of earshot until Logan gives him a nod. He hands Julian the champagne glass, pretending he hasn’t noticed the awkward encounter.

“There’s some abstract thing going on down that way,” he says, gesturing, “I don’t understand it at all.”

“They’re supposed to portray emotion, I think,” Julian says, sipping lightly from his glass, “I usually just say something about how to artist really captured the human condition, and people nod like it’s a brilliant analysis.”

He grins a little and flounces off to check out some of the art, Alex and Logan both at his heels. Alex is definitely trying to meet Logan’s eyes, a questioning look on his face. But Logan steadfastly avoids looking his way. He feels a little ill, after seeing someone from his past. His head is spinning slightly, his stomach churning even more so than earlier.

They stick close by as Julian socializes. The venue isn’t all that crowded, thankfully, and it’s easy enough to pick a wall to lean against as they watch Julian. He looks so excited, having new people to talk to, keeps flitting between groups and laughing at jokes. More than one person appears to be flirting with him, and Logan should probably be more annoyed by that than he is.

But the sick feeling won’t go away, and he can’t focus on the manicured hand resting on Julian’s shoulder.

“Dude, are you alright?”Alex leans over suddenly, squeezing Logan’s arm, “You look kinda…you’re sweating.”

“It’s warm, that’s all.”

Alex frowns, “It’s not. It’s pretty cold, actually. The ice sculpture isn’t melting at all, see?”

Logan can’t look up to where Alex is gesturing. He’s fairly sure he’s about to throw up, and he can’t do that _here_ , in front of all these people.

“Can you just…can you handle things for a minute? I need to go to the restroom.”

He barely waits for Alex’s response, stumbling off across the room in search of the bathroom. There’s a mostly obscured door in the corner, and he heads that way, awkwardly shoving people out of his way. He side-steps one particularly overdressed woman twirling a long strand of pearls, nearly trips over her floor-sweeping dress and runs into something distinctly human-shaped.

“Oof,” Reed nearly pitches to the side as Logan walks straight into him, reaches one arm out to steady himself, “Sorry, I…Logan. Oh.”

He blinks a few times, then tilts his head to the side, eyebrows drawing together, “Hey. Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

“No,” Logan shakes his head a little too vigorously. It makes his headache even _worse_ , and Reed’s image spins in front of him, “Bathroom?”

“Yeah, right back there. Are you…should I call someone? I can go get Julian…”

He trails off as Logan stumbles past him, throwing open the first door he comes across. He nearly collapses on the tile, manages to grip onto the sink as he steadies himself. Everything’s swirling — he can’t focus on his own hand six inches in front of his face, can’t fathom the idea of standing up again.

This can’t just be from breakfast anymore.

It doesn’t feel like anything Logan’s ever experienced. He’d had food poisoning, eaten things that sent him into anaphylactic shock, dealt with a handful of illnesses that never left him feeling like _this_.

He’s dimly aware of his phone ringing in his pocket, the familiar tones of his favorite song echoing throughout the small room. But he can’t work up the energy to reach into his pocket, can barely keep his eyes open…

Logan hits the floor with a dull thud, a quiet blackness overtaking him.


	18. bang, bang, he shot me down

_“I love you,” Julian whispers, his breath ghosting across Logan’s face, “I haven’t told you that yet, have I?”_

_Logan smiles, raises one hand to lightly brush his knuckles across Julian’s cheek, “You haven’t. But I love you too. In case that wasn’t already clear.”_

_“You do?” Julian beams, reaching for Logan’s hand and tangling their fingers together, “Well. That’s good then, isn’t it?”_

_“I suppose it is.”_

_They move towards each other, their lips brushing in a soft kiss. Logan can’t help but smile into it. He loves the way Julian tastes, the softness of his lips and the firmness of his hands on Logan’s chest. When they part, Julian’s smiling softly, his eyes shining down at Logan._

_“Logan...” he says, his voice sweet._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Logan…”_

_“What is it, Jules?”_

“Logan!”

Logan’s eyes snap open. He groans almost immediately, closing them again at the impossibly bright lights shining down on him.

“Logan?” The worried voice calling his name seems vaguely familiar, and Logan cracks his eyes open again, squinting through the barrage of lights.

“Fuck…Van Kamp?”

Reed’s frowning down at him, hands hovering awkwardly over Logan's face, “Are you okay? I heard a crash, and I thought maybe...did you fall?”

“I’m fine,” Logan manages, struggling to sit up. It’s harder than he anticipates, and his vision swirls a bit as he pulls himself upright.

“Maybe you shouldn’t—oh. Never mind, then. Okay.”

Logan grabs onto the sink for balance, heaving himself to his feet. He can feel the room sway, squeezes his eyes shut for a minute until the world steadies again. Reed’s saying something, behind him, but Logan can’t quite focus on the words.

This isn’t normal, what he’s feeling.

This isn’t a result of too much sugar.

Something’s _wrong_.

“Where’s Julian?” He grits out, still gripping the sink.

“Julian? He’s probably still outside, I guess. At the party.”

“I need to get to him. Now.”

“Are you sure…? I think you might need a doctor.”

But Logan shoves away Reed’s attempt at assistance, stumbles his way to the door instead.

The moment he opens it, the shrill scream of the fire alarm sends them both reeling. Reed slams his hands over his ears, and Logan’s nausea returns full-force, his head _throbbing_ at the high-pitched screeching. It almost overpowers the sound of screaming party-goers outside.

“What’s going on?” Reed asks, panicked.

“I’m gonna guess a fire,” Logan says, grabbing Reed by the shoulder and yanking him back out into the main room, “Get out. Now. I have to find Julian.”

Reed stumbles out ahead of him, and Logan scans the room. It’s already filling with smoke, and he pulls the collar of his shirt up and over his nose, hoping it filters the air enough that he’ll be able to make it through the room unscathed. Most of the men and women in the gallery are already running out, dropping glasses of champagne as they go. Logan picks his way over the broken glass, hurries down the small set of stairs that separates the gallery hall from the lobby, and nearly trips over a prone form across the floor.

“Shit—Alex!”

The other bodyguard's body is crumpled at the base of the staircase, his legs sprawled across the stairs and his upper body resting on the marbled floors. Logan drops to the ground, shaking the man firmly by the shoulders. There’s a splatter of blood on the floor beside his head that makes Logan’s heart sink, but Alex thankfully makes a small noise of protest as Logan manhandles him. He manages to get Alex draped over his shoulder, has to all but drag him across the room.

It’s a little more slow-going than it should be, hauling a half-conscious Alex across the gallery. Logan's still unsteady on his feet, his mind still swirling despite his attempts to focus. His eyes scan the room as they go, finally noting the source of the smoke — there’s a large art display of what appears to be a gauzy fabric in the center of the room, the flames slowly creeping upwards. It doesn’t appear to show any danger of spreading farther, thankfully, thought it had been rather effective at clearing the room.

At creating a distraction, perhaps...?

Logan starts looking for Julian the moment they step outside. There’s already an ambulance pulling up outside, and he flags down a paramedic.

“He’s bleeding,” Logan tells them, letting them pull Alex onto a stretcher, “Back of his head. He must’ve fallen, or something…”

Fallen.

That seems like a little too much of a coincidence.

Logan shakes his head, trying to force himself to focus. He glances around the crowd, seeing nothing but the dozens of fabulously-dressed art lovers around them.

“Julian!” He yells, as loud as he can manage. But it’s useless, with this crowd.

“Lo’an,” Alex murmurs beside him, and Logan looks down. Alex’s eyes are hazy, but open. He’s reaching out, his hand twitching towards Logan’s arm, “Don’ think it was an accident.”

“What, the fire?”

“Me. Got pushed,” Alex continues, “Hard. Dinnit fall.”

“Fuck,” Logan’s head jerks upward again, looking through the crowd with increased determination. He pushes past a tight-knit group, searching for the familiar mop of brown hair. He tries calling Julian’s name again, but the echoing screech of the alarms and the panicked roar of the crowd still gathered outside is far too loud.

He _does_ , however, hear the familiar tone of his phone from his pocket. He grabs for it, praying that it’s Julian calling him from around the corner or from inside one of the many limos lining the street.

But it’s not Julian’s name that flashes across the screen.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—I can’t talk right now, dad,” Logan spits into his phone, “I’m kind of in the middle of a disaster—“

“I’ve been _calling_ ,” John says, sounding rather irritated, “Do you want to get information on that Adam fellow or no?”

Logan freezes. It might be nothing. His whole idea, his theory that _this_ situation is the same as the last, it might be completely ridiculous.

But it also might the only thing they have.

“Who is he?" He asks, ducking away from the crowd until he finds a spot that's a little more quiet, "Where is he?”

“Moved out of California shortly after the restraining order,” John says, “Wound up at a university in Ohio, but dropped out after a year. After that, he seemed to just disappear.”

“So nothing, then?” Logan spits out, annoyed, “You called to tell me you found _nothing_.”

“Would you just shut up and listen for once? I called in a few favors, had an agent I know run a search. His fingerprints showed up, tied to a completely different name.”

“…what name?”

There’s a pause, the sound of rifling papers, “Lionel Campbell.”

John’s still talking, but Logan doesn’t hear a word of it. There’s a dozen images flashing through his mind right now — the irritated look on Lionel’s face anytime someone touched Julian, the way he knew Julian’s favorite food and his coffee order, his car lingering outside Julian’s house for longer than necessary.

Lionel knew Julian’s schedule.

Lionel had access to the house.

Lionel knew where the cameras were. Knew the exact spots to move in to avoid being seen.

Logan’s phone slips from his hand, clattering to the pavement below. It feels like his heart’s stopped in his chest, and his eyes flick from the surrounding crowd to the street beside them. He searches for Lionel’s car on the street, praying that he’ll see it parked among the limousines like it should be.

It’s not, of course.

He’s at a loss of what to do.

Julian’s _missing_ , and so is Lionel, who’s really _Adam_ , and Logan doesn’t even know where to start.

His head still aches, his stomach’s still churning. He’s still unsteady on his feet.

And he doesn’t have a fucking _clue_ where to start looking.

Logan’s never felt so lost before. So helpless. It’s like the world’s closing in on him, like something’s squeezing at his heart. He can feel the haziness closing in on him again, and he leans heavily against the wall, his eyelids fluttering.

_Julian’s face swims in his mind. Those shining eyes, focused on Logan's face._

_“You’ll protect me?” Julian whispers, his voice tinged with worry._

_“With my life,” Logan promises._

_Julian leans a little closer. Logan can almost feels his breath against his skin. He wants to touch, wants to feel Julian against him again. When Julian speaks again, it’s soft._

_“Would you take a bullet for me, Logan?”_

_Logan’s throat feels dry, “If that’s what it takes.”_

_The scene shifts in front of him. Julian’s eyes widen, suddenly, and then he’s tipping forward against Logan’s chest, his whole body trembling. Logan can feel something warm and wet against his hands, and when he lifts them to the light they’re tinged a deep red._

_“You promised,” Julian chokes out, staring up at Logan, “You promised me...”_

_“Julian—“_

_“You promised…_ ”

Logan slams his fist against the wall. The burning pain in his knuckles brings him back to reality, and he forces himself to think clearly once more.

Julian’s gone. Missing.

But he can find him.

Carmen had put a tracker on Julian’s phone, he remembers. Way back before he started working for him, when all this first started. He leans down and scoops his own cell off the pavement. It’s cracked, from the fall, but he’s still able to scroll to the right app, to enter the password Carmen had made him memorize. It takes a moment for the tracker to load, but then he’s staring at a tiny blue dot as it moves down the 405.

 _Julian_.

Now he just needs to get to him.

Logan runs for the nearest car he can get to. The driver of the limo he picks looks up, startled, when Logan tears open the door.

“I’ll give you five hundred if you start driving, now,” he spits out.

The man looks a little troubled, “I’m supposed to be waiting for Isabel Montero…”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is in danger, alright? Julian Larson? And I need to find him, _now_ , so start fucking driving and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It’s a miracle that it works, really. It's likely due to the sheer panic in Logan's voice, the focused determination in his eyes.

The driver pulls away from the curb, swinging the car around and merging into traffic. Logan follows the blue dot on the app, snapping out directions the moment it shifts. He watches it pull off the freeway, frowns as it takes a very familiar exit.

Julian’s house.

They’re going to Julian’s _house_.

He almost can’t believe it, even as he watches the blinking light turn onto Julian’s street, watches it stop at his address.

“This exit, here,” he says, almost flatly. The car swings across two lanes of traffic, but Logan ignores the irritated honking of inconvenienced drivers. His anxiety grows, the longer the dot of Julian’s location remains still. They’ve got a decent head start, and Logan twitches in frustration as they get caught at a red light just before Julian’s neighborhood.

The gate guard at the entrance to the subdivision nods at Logan in recognition, and Logan directs the driver down the winding street to Julian’s house. The lights are out, but he recognizes Lionel’s car in the driveway. He nearly leaps out of the car as it’s still moving, but a sudden thought crosses his mind.

“Call the police,” he orders, fixing his eyes on the driver of the car he’s taken over, “Tell them to come to Julian Larson’s house. Tell them his stalker is here, and we need help.”

The man looked more than a little concerned, but Logan doesn’t have time to provide more detail than that. He sprints up to the house, throws the door open, and prepares himself for all kinds of horrifying scenes he might come across.

But when he steps into the living room, he sees Julian standing there alive and well, if not a little confused.

“Logan?”

The relief that floods through Logan’s body is immeasurable. Julian looks completely _fine_ , has stripped off his jacket and tie and bears no evidence of injury, from the fire or otherwise. There’s a faint frown across his lips, but Logan feels nothing but relief as he stares at him.

That is, of course, until Lionel steps out of the adjoining room, eyes narrowed at Logan as he moves to stand behind Julian.

“Julian,” Logan says, struggling to keep his voice even, “Come here, okay?”

“What are you talking about?” Julian asks, his frown deepening, “Logan, what’s wrong?”

“Come _here_ , Julian,” Logan repeats.

“Don’t listen to him, Julian,” Lionel says, a wicked smirk on his face, “You _really_ don’t want to listen to him.”

Julian’s starting to look a little concerned now, his gaze flicking between the two men.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“His name isn’t Lionel,” Logan says, keeping his eyes fixed on the man standing dangerously close to Julian, “That’s Adam, Julian. Your stalker. Adam Clavell.”

“What?” Julian shakes his head, “No. No he’s not…he can’t be. It's _Lionel._ ”

“It's him. I swear it's him,” Logan insists, “And you need to get away from him right now.”

Logan’s hand slips down, reaching for the holster strapped to his thigh. But his fingers find nothing but an empty strap of leather, and his blood runs cold.

“You aren’t looking for this, are you?” Lionel’s voice is sickly sweet as he holds the familiar gun aloft. There’s a soft _click_ as he flips the safety off, and Logan watches in horror as he presses the cold metal against Julian’s skin, “You really should take better care of your things, Wright. Found it on the floor of the car after you got out.”

“Oh my god,” Julian’s eyes widen at the feel of the gun against the back of his neck, “Oh my god, what the _fuck_.”

But Lionel — _Adam_ — ignores Julian’s panic, “You’re going to leave now, Wright,” he says patiently, “You’re going to turn around and walk right out that door. I’ve waited far too long to have someone like you ruin this for me.”

“Put the gun down,” Logan says, taking a tentative step closer, “Let him go. You don’t have to do this.”

“Obviously you don’t _get it_ ,” Adam spits, his free hand twisting in the back of Julian’s shirt, holding him steady, “You have no idea how long I’ve planned this. How hard I’ve worked for this. You think it’s easy forging a new identity? To build up enough of a history that nobody questions the background check? And _you_ \--you of all people. You're meant to be  _dead_.”

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Julian asks, voice considerably higher than normal, “I don’t _understand…_ ”

Adam’s face softens, and Logan watches, sick to his stomach, as he lifts a hand and strokes a finger down Julian’s face.

“Don’t you see, Julian,” he says, softer than normal, “It’s been me all along. I’m the one who’s always wanted you. Who’s always loved you. I just needed you to _see me_.”

“This is _insane_ ,” Julian tries to pull away, but his body jerks harshly as Adam tugs him back.

“I’m not _insane_ ,” Adam snaps, a terrifying glimmer in his eyes, “I’m in love with you, Julian, why can’t you see that?”

“Then you’ll let him go,” Logan says, taking another step, “If you love him, you won’t hurt him. You’ll let him go.”

“You,” Adam’s hate-filled eyes flick over to Logan, “You just had to ruin everything, didn’t you? You should be dead in that bathroom you snuck off into. Alex was easy, you know. Easily distracted. He didn’t even notice me when I pushed him down those stairs. _You_ though, I knew you’d be difficult. I tried to get rid of you early. Too bad your little friend got in my way.”

“It was my meds, wasn’t it?” Logan asks. He has to keep him distracted, has to keep Adam _talking_ as he tries to figure out how to get Julian out, “When you came by the other day. You switched them.”

“Finally catching on, aren't we?”

“So what was your plan, then? Drag Julian back here, and then what?”

“I saved him,” Adam says, looking a little wild, “Me. You and Alex were meant to die, and I’d be all he had left. I _saved_ him. He was supposed to be _grateful_ , he'd have nobody but me left! I pulled him out of that fire—“

“The fire _you_ started, you psychotic piece of shit,” Julian spits out. He’s cut off by Adam shoving the cool metal of the gun harder against his skin, and he lets out a pained whimper.

“Stop _calling_ me that!” He shouts, “I’m not _crazy_!”

“No,” Logan says patiently, humoring him, “You’re not. You’re in love. I get it. That’s how I know you won’t hurt him.”

“No,” Adam says, looking a little speculative, “I won’t hurt him.”

He raises his arm, and Logan’s left staring down the barrel of his own gun.

“No,” Julian's voice is barely more than a whisper, his eyes wide and terrified, “No. Don’t. Please.”

“He’s in the way, Julian,” Adam says, almost calmly, “He’s ruining everything, don’t you see? We could be so _happy_ , you and me. I know everything about you. Your favorite food. Your favorite wine. I know you like to stand outside when it’s raining, and that you always go to the beach when you’re stressed. I _know_ _you_ , Julian.”

“Oh my god,” Julian’s shaking like a leaf now, tears streaming from his eyes as he stares at the gun aimed Logan’s way, “How long have you—you’ve been _stalking_ me! I trusted you, and you’ve been—“

“You can still trust me, Julian,” Adam insists, “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Never again. None of them _deserved_ you, don’t you see? None of them really appreciated how wonderful you are. Not Clark. Not Liam. Not that damn actor who kept _touching_ you. Especially," Adam's eyes flick up to Logan, just briefly, "not  _him_.”

“Stop. _Please_ stop. Please, just let me go—“

“I can’t do that,” Adam almost sounds _sad_ , “You don’t understand yet. You don’t _see_. I have to get you away from here, where they can’t confuse you. Where _he_ can’t confuse you.”

His gaze moves to Logan again, and Logan watches as his finger twitches on the trigger.

“No!” Julian screams, “I’ll go with you! I _swear_ I’ll go with you, just let him go!”

Adam’s hand falters, “You mean it? You pick me?”

Logan can see the wheels turning in Julian’s head, the way his eyes struggle to focus despite the terror he’s feeling, “Yes. I pick you.”

“Julian—“ Logan starts, but Adam talks over him.

“You promise?”

“I do,” Julian looks toward him, tries to force a smile onto his face, “But you can’t kill him. They’ll look for you, if you do.”

Adam frowns a little, “But you choose me? Not him.”

“Of course,” Julian lifts a shaky hand to Adam’s face, “I _love_ you.”

It’s remarkable, that the words sound even a little believable. It’s a testament to Julian’s acting skill, really, that Adam takes it at face value. But Logan can see the tremor in Julian’s fingertips, the fear hiding in his eyes even as he lets Adam lean forward.

Logan sees _red_ , when Adam kisses Julian’s mouth. His fists clench at his sides. The only thing keeping him from throwing himself at the man is the gun still far too close to Julian for his liking. They finally pull apart, and Adam’s gazing at Julian with such _fondness_ it makes Logan sick.

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Logan snarls, “He’s staying here, where he belongs. And you’re going to prison for a _very_ long time.”

“Logan,” Julian says, warningly, but Logan refuses to let him cater to the whims of a deranged stalker anymore.

“He doesn’t love you,” Logan says, harshly, “How could he? You’re _pathetic_.”

Adam’s eyes flash, “ _I’m_ pathetic? You’re the one who needs medication to keep from snapping. The one who ran away from home because being a trust fund baby was just _too hard.”_

The distant ringing of sirens finally, blessedly, reaches Logan’s ears. Adam stiffens at the sound, his expression souring even more.

“You called the fucking cops? How _stupid_ can you be?”

He raises the gun again. Logan’s moved close enough now that he can’t _possibly_ miss, but he needs to buy enough time that the police will be able to save Julian from all this.

“You don’t really know him,” Logan continues, watching as Adam shakes with rage, “If you did, you wouldn’t have left roses. He hates them. You wouldn’t have terrified him with those pictures. You wouldn’t have broken into his house. You don’t know that he talks in his sleep, or how he likes to be held at night. You don’t know a goddamn _thing_ about him.”

“And I’m sure you think you’re so fucking _special_ ,” Adam says, “You think you’re _different_ than all those other people he brings home? That you actually mean something to him? Newsflash, Wright: you’re _nothing_. He’s going to get bored of you, just like with all the others. You don't deserve him.”

“Maybe,” Logan moves even closer, ignoring the panic on Julian’s face, “But that would be his choice. I’m not the one who held a gun to his head so he’d pick me.”

He expects it now, when Adam moves. Logan ducks as Adam raises his arm, throwing his body forward and slamming the gun arm to the side. But Adam’s _strong_ , and Logan’s still feeling the effects of whatever had been slipped into his medicine. He feels Julian pressed between them, struggles to get a grip on Adam’s arm and pull Julian free. There’s a brief scuffle, and then Logan feels the cool press of metal against his chest.

“ _No!”_ Someone screams, and Logan’s knocked wildly off-balance.

A gunshot rings through the air.

Logan's back slams against the floor.

For a moment, he just lays there, his mind racing. The wind’s been knocked out of him, and it takes him a good couple of seconds to realize that he’s not actually in any pain.

Not the kind of pain a gunshot would bring, anyway.

He pushes himself up off the ground, determined to go for Adam once more.

But when his eyes lock on the man, he sees the horrified expression on his face. The gun in his hand clatters to the floor. He isn’t looking towards Logan, not anymore.

Instead, his eyes are fixed on Julian, and on the steadily-spreading red stain across his shirt.

“No,” Adam whispers, reaching for Julian even as he stumbles backwards, “No, I didn’t mean to… _Julian_...”

Julian’s own hands reach for his chest, coming to rest across the wound. His eyes seek Logan’s, lips trembling.

“Lo…” he manages, just before he collapses to the floor.

“No!” Logan rushes forward, dropping heavily beside Julian. He cradles the man’s head in his lap, watching in horror as the blood continues to seep through his shirt. He presses his hands against the wound desperately, trying his best to staunch the bleeding.

Adam’s frozen in place, beside them, his eyes fixed on Julian’s motionless figure.

“No,” he repeats, “I didn’t…I didn’t mean…”

But he never gets to finish his sentence.

The door slams open, and a herd of uniformed police officers rush in, guns drawn.

"Freeze!" One of them yells, "Both of you, hands up!"


	19. and in the end, I'd do it all again

The steady beeping of the heart monitor is almost reassuring.

Logan tries to concentrate on the rhythm. He times his breath with the tone. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

The beeping is good.

The beeping means Julian is _alive._

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He glances up at Julian’s face. It’s not that he expects a change, of course; the doctors had put him under heavy sedation when they pumped him full of antibiotics, they’d explained. It’s meant to be temporary, an attempt to stave off any infection that could result from his gunshot wound. But it’s knocked him out pretty well, and they don’t expect him to wake up for a few hours, at least.

Julian had been unbelievably lucky, according to his medical team. The bullet had torn through his lower shoulder, at an angle the surgeon had deemed miraculous. It had missed the subclavian artery, they’d said, which usually posed the most danger in these types of injuries. It _had_ grazed a dense bundle of nerves, however, and the chances of Julian being able to use his arm without intense physical therapy are miniscule.

Still, he’s _alive._

Logan squeezes the hand he’s been unable to let go of since he’d entered the room, pressing a tender kiss to Julian’s fingertips. Julian doesn’t move, but Logan tries to take comfort in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the continued beeping of his heart monitor.

“Where’s my son?!”

The panicked voice in the hall is the first thing to draw Logan’s eyes away from Julian. He recognizes that voice, can relate to the sheer terror in those words. He stands up just as Dolce Larson bursts into the room.

She looks just as awful as Logan feels. Her skin is deathly pale, her eyes wide and frightened. Logan vaguely remembers Julian telling him she’d been filming on the East Coast — she must have jumped on a plane the moment she heard the news.

Carmen’s hovering behind her, her face lined with exhaustion. She’s been at the hospital just as long as Logan, had actually managed to get to the emergency room before Julian’s ambulance had. She gestures at Logan, as Dolce sinks onto the bed beside her son, motioning for him to follow her.

It hurts, to tear himself away from Julian. But Dolce _is_ his mother, and he supposes she deserves some privacy right now. He glances at Julian’s still face once more, then follows Carmen out into the hall.

“They say he’s doing well,” she says quietly, once they’re outside, “They’re not sure when he’llwake up, still, but he’s going to be okay.”

She takes a deep breath. Logan’s not sure which one of them she’s trying to reassure.

“He’ll need physical therapy, they’re saying,” she continues, “I should make some calls. Find someone good. He won’t want to be away from filming for too long…”

She reaches into the ever-present handbag hanging off her elbow, pulling out her iPad.

“Carmen…”

“Quiet,” she snaps, “I need to work.”

She moves down the hallway a few feet, sinks into the first empty chair and starts typing away. Logan hovers for a moment, but eventually realizes that this is how she intends to deal with the stress. He leaves her be, moves instead to the room a few doors down.

Five people look up when he knocks on the doorframe — a heavily pregnant woman with a messy ponytail, three boys of varying ages, and an exhausted-looking Alex.

“Hey, Wright,” Alex says hoarsely, trying for a smile, “He doing okay?”

“He’s still out,” Logan says, stepping into the room, “But the doctors are hopeful. How about you?”

“Concussion,” the man says with a wince, “Seven stitches. Gotta stay overnight for observation, but I can go home tomorrow. Thank you, by the way. For pulling me out.”

“Well I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“God. _Lionel_. Shoulda known. That guy was weird.”

“A little more than weird,” Logan says, thinking back on the past few hours, “He—I’ll explain later. When you’re not dealing with a concussion. And there aren’t kids in the room.”

“That would be much appreciated,” the woman, Alex’s wife says. She’s holding onto the youngest of the boys, one hand on his small shoulder, “I think tonight’s been too exciting for them as it is.”

“You can go ahead and take them home, pookie,” Alex turns to her, reaching for her free hand, “I’ll be fine. Nurses got me pretty drugged-up here. I promise I’ll be okay.”

The way they’re looking at each other makes Logan feel like he’s intruding on a very private moment. He turns away, pretends to be staring at something out the window. He hears the tell-tale sound of a soft kiss, the murmured goodbyes in the high-pitched voices of young boys. Alex’s family filters out, and Logan turns back.

“So how are you really?” He asks, and Alex sighs.

“ _Lionel_ ,” he says again, “I can’t believe—I should’ve paid better attention. I can’t believe he got the better of me.”

“Both of us. He slipped something in my meds. Remember how I wasn’t feeling well?”

“Yeah. You said it was breakfast…”

“It wasn’t. While he was pushing you down the stairs I was passing out in the bathroom.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, “Are you okay?”

“Whatever he gave me wore off about the time Julian got shot, yeah.”

“I still can’t believe it. That he got shot…”

“Yeah, me either.”

Alex must see the look in Logan’s eyes, “Hey. You know it wasn’t your fault, right? I mean who knows what might’ve happened it you hadn’t been there.”

“I was supposed to protect him,” Logan says, dully, “I was supposed to…and somehow he’s the one who go a bullet through the shoulder.”

“…you know it’s actually a good thing, right?”

Logan’s head jerks up, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got what, two, three inches on him? If that bullet had hit you instead…Carmen said it was perfect, the way it went through him. That if it was any lower it would’ve hit his hurt, or punctured a lung. If it had hit you instead, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

He has a point. If Julian hadn’t pushed him out of the way, if the bullet had landed where Adam meant it to, Logan wouldn’t be standing right now.

But Julian _would_.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair, “You should get some rest, okay? I’m gonna go see if Carmen needs any help. She looked a little stressed last time I saw her.”

“You get some sleep too, alright? Julian’s still going to be here in the morning.”

Logan tries for a smile, but he knows it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He nods once at Alex, then heads out of the room, back to where Carmen’s sitting. Her tablet is still in her lap, but she’s no longer looking at it. Instead, she has her head in her hands, her long hair falling over her face.

“…Carmen?”

She jerks upward at the sound of Logan’s voice, and he doesn’t miss seeing the tears she quickly wipes from her face.

“You’re still here?” Her voice is thick, choked-off with repressed tears, “Go home, Wright. I’m sure Dolce plans on staying here all night. Travis is on his way, too. Wouldn’t want it to be too crowded.”

Her fingers tap at her iPad once more, “I need to issue a statement. There’s already speculation — people knew he was at the gallery. Someone saw Dolce walking into the hospital…”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Carmen finally meets his eyes. She must see the same expression in Logan that she feels herself — exhaustion, coupled with the desire to do something, _anything_ , to keep himself busy. To help. She sighs deeply, rubbing at her temples.

“…he’ll want some of his things, when he wakes up. Clothes. Something to distract himself with, maybe.”

Logan nods, “I can stop by. Grab some things.”

“Thank you,” Carmen smiles, just slightly, then turns back to her work.

He has to take a cab. It’s for the best, really; he’s still a little shaky, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t manage the drive from the hospital to the house without crashing. The driver looks a little startled, and Logan realizes a little belatedly that he’s absolutely covered in blood.

He considers reassuring him with a “ _oh, the blood isn’t mine_ ,” but that sounds even worse. Instead, he just settles back against the seats, trying to settle his mind as much as possible on the drive to Julian’s house.

But the police tape that meets him at the gate makes him falter a bit. The cops have come and gone, but Logan still hesitates before slipping under the barrier. It’s dark inside, and when Logan flips on the lights his breath catches.

The carpet is soaked with Julian’s blood, still. He can make out the exact spot Julian had fallen, and for several long moments he can’t tear himself away.

 _Julian’s okay_ , he reminds himself, _he’s going to be okay. The doctors promised…_

He grabs a throw blanket from the sofa and throws it over the stain. He can’t bear to look at it, to see the evidence of that night. It’ll have to be dealt with soon, of course, before Julian comes home. But he can’t think about that right now. He has a job to do.

Julian’s room is still a mess from his frantic dressing just prior to the event. Logan does his best to tidy up, lining Julian’s shoes along the closet floor and hanging up the rejected shirts and ties. He grabs a duffel bag from under the bed, then sets to work picking out the most comfortable clothes he can. He packs Julian’s softest sweats and sweaters, folds in several pairs of clean underwear and socks. Julian will want to leave the hospital looking camera-ready, probably, so Logan also reaches for a pair of dark wash jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

He kind of flounders, after that. Realistically, he knows Julian will want something to keep him busy when he wakes up. But Logan doesn’t love the idea of Julian _working_ while he’s recovering. So instead of one of the many scripts stacked on his desk, he moves to the bookshelf. There’s quite a few books that Logan recognizes as being the source material behind Julian’s films, a comprehensive collection of Shakespeare plays, even academic papers on acting. On the bottom shelf, though, Logan finds several well-read books, and he can only assume they’re Julian’s favorites.

He packs a few of those, adds Julian’s favorite pillow, then zips up the bag. It should be enough, he thinks. If not, he can always come back. Hopefully, though, Julian will be out of the hospital before too long.

Logan nearly leaves the house in his blood-stained clothes again. It’s only when he catches his reflection in the hallway mirror that he grimaces, dropping Julian’s bag and jogging back upstairs to change. He picks a shirt from the back of Julian’s closet, tugs it on and throws the stained one in the trash, shoving it down so the blood isn’t visible.

Once he’s finally presentable, he grabs Julian’s keys. He hopes Julian won’t mind him borrowing the Bentley.

He’s not even allowed in Julian’s hospital room, when he returns. Carmen takes the bag from him, steps in for all of thirty seconds, then re-joins him in the hall. He ignores her repeated suggestions to go home, and she seems unsurprised when he settles into a chair in the waiting room beside her.

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep. He’s too on edge, too concerned about Julian’s well-being to really relax. But the exhaustion of the past few hours must hit him harder than expected, and before long he’s slumped over in the hard plastic chairs of the waiting room, fast asleep.

“Wright?”

His body feel so _heavy_ , like he’s sunken so far into this chair that he’s become a part of it.

“Wright?”

It’s like his eyes are glued shut, like all of his strength combined won’t be enough to pry them open. He’s just so tired…

“Logan!”

He nearly falls out of the chair. His whole body jerks, and Carmen has to jump back from where she’s bent over him to avoid being hit in the scuffle.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, once he’s gotten himself situated, “Sorry, I must’ve been more tired than I thought.”

“You’ve been asleep for six hours,” Carmen says, raising an eyebrow at him, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go home?”

“Is Julian awake?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Carmen looks unsurprised, “Dolce and Travis are on their way to meet with a lawyer right now, if you’d like to go in.”

“Julian’s room?” Logan sits up straight, “They’re letting people in?”

“They’re on their way to press charges, didn’t you hear? _I’m_ letting people in.”

She steps aside as Logan moves past her. Julian’s room is quiet, when he walks in, save for the same familiar beeping of his heart monitor. The chair at his beside is empty, and Logan sinks into it, reaching once more for Julian’s hand. The warmth radiating from his skin is comforting, even as his eyes remain closed.

“…hey, Jules,” Logan says softly, “I don’t know if you can hear me. They have you on a lot of medication right now. But I’m really looking forward to you waking up, alright? I need to see for myself that you’re okay.”

Julian doesn’t respond, of course. But his chest moves with his breathe, and the machine continues beeping steadily. It’s enough, for now.

Logan doesn’t move from his seat. Not when the nurses come in to check on Julian’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Not when Carmen ducks in to inform him that she’s joining Dolce and Travis to meet with the police and the family lawyers. Not even when a new visitor knocks on the door, poking his head in.

“Hey,” Clark says softly, as he moves into the room, “He holding up okay?”

There’s another man with him, not as tall but just as good-looking, staring at Julian’s figure with worried eyes.

“Doctors say he’s gonna be okay,” Logan replies, “He hasn’t woken up yet, but they have him on a lot of sedatives to reduce infection. But they said it was a clean shot. Easy surgery, I guess. By the time they were done checking me over, he was out.”

“Good,” Clark sighs with relief, drifting over to Julian’s bed and hovering nearby.

“Did Carmen call you?”

“No, actually. Reed did — the artist, from the gallery? He’s my stepbrother. He told me something weird was going on with the fire, that you took off pretty quick. It sounded like a really weird situation, and then someone posted pictures of the ambulance in front of his house and Dolce…”

He trails off, shaking his head, “Anyway, I wanted to see how he was. This is Cameron, by the way. The three of us used to work together.”

Cameron barely seems to notice Logan. He’s staring at Julian’s chart, instead, frowning down at the doctor’s notes.

“No lung damage?”

“No, thankfully. Grazed some nerves, they said. He’s going to need therapy for his arm, for a while.”

“No sign of infection, that’s good. His blood pressure’s high, but I assume that’s normal.”

“He kinda knows his medical stuff,” Clark explains, looking to Logan, “Googled a lot on the drive over, too.”

“There’s all kinds of things that could’ve happen,” Cameron says, as he hangs the chart back up, “Collapses lung. Brain damage. If it had hit his heart…”

“But it didn’t,” Logan says sharply, “It didn’t, and he’s going to be fine.”

Clark elbows Cameron, who looks apologetic, “Sorry. It’s just, when we heard he’d been shot…”

“You were there, right?” Clark asks, “You saw what happened?”

“It was Lionel. The stalker. The fire at the gallery was a distraction, he waited until Alex and I weren’t looking and dragged Julian away.”

“And took him back to his _house_?”

“Still a little unclear on what his plan was. He seemed to think if Alex and I died and he looked like a hero, Julian would…I don’t know, fall into his arms or something?”

“Right. Solid plan.”

“He was trying to shoot me,” Logan blurts out, “Lionel — Adam — he was aiming for me. He was trying, and Julian, he just — I don’t know. It happened so fast, I’m not sure if he stepped in front of me or pushed me or…”

He expects anger. He’d be angry, if it were him. If it had been someone else there, if Alex had been the one to find Julian, had been meant to protect him and Julian still got hurt…

But they’re not.

Clark seems almost unsurprised by what Logan’s said. Even Cameron just nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s always been a little…reckless, when it comes to people he cares about.”

“He could have _died_. He almost did, and I just—“

“Hey,” Clark interrupts him, lays a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, “It’s not your fault. Besides, he’s gonna be okay, right?”

“But he almost wasn’t, I thought…he almost…”

“Logan?”

All three men turn.

Julian’s eyes are barely open, squinting a little as he tilts his head to the side.

“Oh my god, Julian,” Logan moves closer, bringing one hand to Julian’s cheek and cupping it gingerly, “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Bright,” Julian mumbles, sounding a little irritated. Both Clark and Cameron move — Cameron shuts off one of the bright overhead fluorescents, and Clark draws the curtains closed. It leaves the room fairly dim, but Julian seems a little less annoyed.

“Hey, J,” Clark smiles down at him, moving to stand beside Logan, “You okay?”

“Sleepy.”

The word has barely left his mouth before his eyes are drifting shut again, his lips parting just slightly as he nods off once more. His fingers twitch a little, against Logan’s palm, and then he stills, fast asleep.

“…well,” Cameron says, after a long pause, “At least we know it didn’t affect him talking.”

For the rest of the day, Julian wakes up the same way. He’ll blink for a few moments, stare blearily around the room, and fall asleep again, often without muttering a word. Visitors stream in and out steadily; Clark and Cameron stay for an hour or so, Christopher pops in for a few minutes, Julian’s co-star Daniel shows up. Even Liam steps in, shortly before visiting hours end.

“…I probably owe you an apology, you know,” Logan says, once he’s filled the man in on Julian’s condition, “For thinking it was you.”

“If it’s any consolation, _I_ thought it was _you_.”

“Really?”

“Is that really such a surprise? You came in right before things got really bad. You were weirdly possessive over him. You tried to keep me away from him.”

“You gave him _drugs_ ,” Logan says, defensively.

“Hate to ruin your perfect image of him, but he asked for them. Most of my clients do. Believe it or not, it’s pretty damn common in this town.”

“Point is, I knew it had to be someone close to him. At the time, you seemed to make the most sense.”

“Well it wasn’t me,” Liam looks down at Julian, frowning a bit, “He looks so…young, like this.”

“Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Could you just…tell him I stopped by, I guess? I mean, I’m not sure he’d care that much, but still.”

“I’ll tell him,” Logan promises, “I think he might like it, knowing how many people cared enough to stop by.”

“So you two, then…are you…?”

“No,” Logan says. Liam glances pointedly at their linked hands, and Logan sighs, “I mean we haven’t…talked about what we are, specifically. Didn’t really have a chance.”

“Well, if it means anything coming from _me_ …I think you two’d be good together.”

“Thanks, but uh…my relationship status isn’t exactly my top priority right now.”

“Right. Of course not. Well I should get going but…he’s gonna be fine, okay? Try to get some rest.”

Logan nods at him as he leaves. He won’t be able to rest, he knows, not until he feels like Julian’s definitely going to be okay. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.

When Julian next wakes up, he seems a little more alert. He groans at the light again, tilting his face into the pillow.

“Turn off the sun,” he grumbles, and Logan actually manages a smile.

“Not the sun. Just a light. Not even a bright one.”

“Am I in the hospital?”

“You are.”

“The nice one?”

“The closest one.”

Julian blinks a few times, glancing around, “How long?”

“About twenty-four hours, since you got hurt. You’ve been waking up on and off all day, but this is the most you talked.”

“My parents?”

“At your lawyer’s office, for most of the day. The police station, after that. Last I heard, they were each going to issue statements. There’s a lot of rumors about what happened to you.”

Julian nods a little, looks down at himself and frowns at the thick bandages on his chest.

“Doesn’t hurt. I thought it’d hurt.”

“You’re on a lot of painkillers right now.”

“Oh. That’s why my head’s all bubbly?”

“I’d say so,” Logan leans forward, pressing his lips to Julian’s knuckles, “You scared the crap out of me, you know that?”

“He was gonna shoot you.”

“That’s right. It was supposed to be me. I told you I’d take a bullet for you, remember?”

Julian looks toward their interlocked hands, “You did.”

“I would’ve.”

“But you didn’t have to,” Julian says, softly, “I didn’t want you to.”

“And you think I wanted _you_ to—“ Logan breaks off, his voice cracking a little, “God, Julian, you almost _died_.”

Julian scoffs, “Please. I’m invincible.”

“But you’re _not_!”

Logan’s outburst surprises him just as much as Julian. He’s not sure where it comes from, but it seems to break something inside of him. He pulls away, suddenly unable to sit still or even _breathe_ without feeling overwhelmed. Julian stares, wide-eyed, as Logan shoves his chair backwards and starts frantically pacing around the room.

“You can’t just—for fuck’s sake, Julian, you can’t treat yourself like you’re expendable!”

“I wasn’t…”

“You _were_ , though! The whole time, with how reckless you were being, like you didn’t give a damn what happened to you. Well _I_ give a damn, alright? Your parents give a damn. Carmen, your friends…do you realize how many people came by today to see if you were okay? How many people were terrified when they heard you got _shot_?”

“I didn’t know…”

“Clark left in the middle of his own concert to get on a plane here. Cameron spent an hour arguing with your doctors over the medicine they had you on. Christopher came. Daniel. Liam. Even _Derek_ called worried, and he only met you once.”

“Logan…”

“Do you have any _idea_ what it would’ve done to me if you died? How I would’ve felt? I wouldn’t have been able to handle it, Julian. I wouldn’t have—“

He breaks off, nearly choking on a sob. Julian looks mildly horrified now, is staring at Logan like he doesn’t know what to do.

It's not unlike how Logan feels.

He's trembling, now, unable to keep himself restrained. It's like every emotion he's held back over the past twenty-four hours explodes out of him at once, like he's feeling everything at the same time. The fear. The worry. The pain.

And another feeling, one that overpowers them all.

“Julian," he breathes, staring down at the man, "I—I _love_ you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it.

It’s probably not the best time, but he can’t take the words back now. Julian’s gaping at him, completely thrown by the words.

“I love you,” Logan repeats, “And I don't think that I…I wouldn’t have survived if you died.”

“…you love me?” 

“I do. I love you,” Logan exhales, runs a shaky hand through his hair, “I know this isn’t really…the timing sucks, I know. This isn’t really the kind of thing you spring on someone when they’re out of their mind on painkillers, and…and you should focus on healing, right now. But I need you to know how important you are to people. To me.”

Julian doesn’t look like he quite knows what to say. He’s staring, open-mouthed, blinking at Logan as he stands in the middle of the room.

“Could you say something?” Logan begs, “You don’t have to say it back, obviously, but could you say _something_?”

“…come here.”

“What?”

“Come _here_ , Logan,” Julian repeats, a little more firmly. He shifts over on the bed as Logan approaches, wincing a bit when he jostles himself too much. Logan hesitates, unsure as to what exactly Julian means. But Julian just pats the few inches of empty cot beside him, “Here. Please? I need to be held right now.”

“Your doctor’s going to kill me,” Logan says, even as he climbs up into the small amount of free space Julian’s left him. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze, and Logan has to take care to avoid the tubes and wires Julian’s still hooked up to. But he manages well enough, and Julian relaxes against his shoulder once he’s settled in. For a while, they’re quiet. Logan almost thinks Julian’s fallen asleep again, until he speaks.

“Is the bullet still in me?”

Logan frowns, “No, of course not. I think the police have it, now. For evidence.”

“Oh,” Julian seems almost disappointed, “It might’ve been cool. Setting off metal detectors and stuff.”

“Well, you can still hold out hope for a badass scar.”

“True. You’ll still think I’m pretty with a scar, right?”

Logan almost laughs, “Of course I will, Jules.”

“Good," Julian tugs on Logan's arm, pulling it around his own waist. Logan stares down at him.

"You're tired again, aren't you?" He asks, watching as Julian's eyelids flutter again, "You can sleep, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

"It's over now, right?"

"Yeah," Logan murmurs, pulling him close, "It's over now."


	20. you know it's gonna be alright

Julian’s staring at his reflection in the mirror again when Logan walks in. He seems to have stopped halfway through getting ready, is wearing his slacks and shoes without his shirt or jacket. Logan sighs, looking at him, comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Julian’s waist.

“You know," he says, pulling Julian against him, "You’re the only one who even notices, anymore.”

“ _You_ notice,” Julian corrects, fingertips brushing against the puckered skin on his chest, “Don’t think I don’t know why you kiss it before bed every night.”

“I do it because it reminds me you’re still _here_ ,” Logan says, for what must be the hundredth time, “Because it could have changed everything.”

Julian turns in his arms, winding his own around Logan’s neck, “It did change everything, didn’t it? I didn’t have a boyfriend before.”

“I would’ve been your boyfriend even if you hadn’t gotten shot.”

“Well now we’ll never know,” Julian presses up on his toes, kissing Logan lightly, “You swear it’s not ugly?”

“Not even a little bit,” Logan promises, “Kinda makes you look like a badass, just like you wanted.”

Julian smiles, “Good. I gotta keep up with my badass boyfriend, after all. Who looks _crazy_ hot in this suit, by the way. Michelle has good taste.”

He runs his hands over Logan’s shoulders, picks a speck of lint off the dark fabric and admires the look.

“She said I had to measure up to you, you know. I kinda think she might like you more than me.”

“Only because she met me when I couldn't use one arm. It’s the pity thing, you know. It's why she spent the whole weekend doing things for me.”

“Nah,” Logan reaches for the shirt draped over the bed, helping Julian into it, “She asks about you every time she calls. To make sure you're eating and sleeping, to lecture me if she thinks you're overworking yourself. She said she’ll be watching tonight, by the way. Derek too.”

“Well I hope I don’t let them down.”

Julian lets Logan button him up, raises his arms obediently when Logan tugs his jacket on over the rest of his outfit. His tie comes next, and Logan’s hands linger as he knots it over Julian’s throat.

“…last time I did this was a few hours before…”

“Hey,” Julian takes Logan’s hand in his own, “He’s in prison now, remember? No more creepy letters. No break-ins. Besides, Alex is coming with us.”

That makes Logan grumble, “I’m perfectly capable of protecting you myself, you know. We don’t need to drag him to this. He just had a _baby_ , after all.”

“You’re my date, not my bodyguard. We’re having fun. Tonight’s a fun night. No working.”

“Julian…”

“No. Working. Embrace being a kept man, alright?”

"I am not a  _kept man_."

"Oh? You don't have a job and you live with me."

"I got my trust fund back, remember? Plus my share of your record sales."

" __Whatever makes you feel better, sweetheart."

Julian kisses him again, but steps back before Logan can really get into it. The doorbell rings out from downstairs, and Julian shoves at Logan’s shoulder before heading into the bathroom.

“Go let Alex in, I need to fix my hair.”

“You just fixed your hair.”

“And I don’t like it. Go let Alex in.”

Logan rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, jogging down the stairs and reaching for the door. Alex grins at him, letting out a low whistle as he looks Logan up and down.

“Someone’s all dressed up.”

“Had to. Apparently they take pictures at this sort of thing.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from all the big bad photographers.”

“You’re a dick,” Logan steps aside, letting Alex into the house, “How’s Celia?”

“Absolutely perfect, as always. Oh, you should see this — she went to sleep cuddling that teddy bear Julian bought for her, look.”

He whips out his phone, scrolling through a dozen or so photos of his newborn daughter. Logan plays along, nodding and smiling at each one as Alex excitedly gives him the backstory for each one. They look exactly the same as every other picture Alex has shown him since the birth, but Logan does his best to act thrilled anyway.

Still, he’s relieved when Julian comes down the stairs, a small pink bag in his hands.

“You didn’t buy her _another_ present, did you?” Alex asks, staring at the gift, “She’s gonna be spoiled before she can even talk.”

Julian shrugs, “I saw it while I was out shopping last week and couldn’t help myself. It’s not a big deal.”

Despite his complaints, Alex takes the bag and peeks into it. His eyes widen, and he reaches past the tissue paper to pull out a tiny scrap of dark fabric.

“Is this a _baby leather jacket_?” He asks with a gasp, holding it up, “Oh my god, they make these?!”

“It’s probably a little too big for her now, but I figure she’ll grow into it. She’s gonna be a total badass, I can feel it.”

Alex grins, “Damn straight. Thank you, really. Much better than all the glittery pink tutus we keep getting.”

“Hey,” Logan scowls, “ _I_ sent you a glittery pink tutu.”

“Yours was the cutest,” Alex promises, “The pinkest and glitteriest.”

Logan rolls his eyes at him, turns to grab his wallet and phone from the hall table, “We ready?”

“Let’s fucking do this,” Julian says brightly, skipping past them both. Logan and Alex both move reflexively, catching themselves just before they pull Julian back. It’s weird still, hard to get used to the fact that Julian’s safe now. Alex is adjusting a little better, but Logan still struggles. He still finds himself stepping in front of Julian as they exit buildings, still grips Julian’s arm tightly when strangers get too close.

But it bothers Julian, he knows. He wants his freedom back, and Logan does his best to remember that.

“So was it your idea to give me a raise?” Alex asks quietly, as they follow Julian out to the car, “Or did he and Carmen just spontaneously decide to _double_ my pay?”

Logan shrugs, “I suggested it, but he decided how much. Said that since you’re his only bodyguard now, and you’re also acting as driver, he was actually saving money.”

“ _Double_ ,” Alex repeats, “And I don’t even work much, anymore. It’s just for the fancy things.”

“You complaining about extra money?”

“Hell no. My kids are all going to Harvard now.”

He grins proudly, clapping Logan on the back as he heads to the front seat of the car. Julian’s already inside, fidgeting slightly and toying with the end of his tie.

“Hey,” Logan whispers, resting a hand on his knee, “Relax, alright? Breathe.”

“ _Relax_ , he says,” Julian scoffs, “Like I can _relax_ right now.”

“Try? For me?”

Julian grumbles, but sinks back into his seat. He’s still antsy, tapping one foot in time to the radio as they drive. Logan does his best to distract him, but he also understands Julian’s nerves. He’s a bit nervous himself, to be honest. It won’t be _him_ going up on that stage, of course, but he still feels a small amount of the same anxiety.

“Oh god,” Julian breathes, as they pull onto Figueroa Street, “I’m gonna throw up, I think.”

“You’re not going to throw up,” Logan says patiently, “Stop freaking out. Whatever way this goes, it’s going to be fine.”

“You realize it’s the last thing I need for an EGOT, right?”

Alex raises an eyebrow in surprise, “Wait, you have a _Tony_?”

“Oh my god, read my Wikipedia page and catch up.”

Alex turns to Logan, “He has a _Tony_?”

“It’s on his Wikipedia page,” Logan says, unable to keep the smirk off his face, “Now come on, superstar, let’s go get you that Grammy.”

Julian whines a little, as Logan tugs him out of the car. But the moment he steps out, the second the cameras flash, the nervous side of him disappears. Logan watches a little awestruck as Julian beams at the cameras, strutting past the flashes with all the confidence in the world. Their hands are still linked, and Logan tries to act the supportive boyfriend without stealing any of Julian’s thunder.

He stands by dutifully as Julian answers reporter’s questions, as he talks about the inspiration for his album and what a change it was working on it after two decades of acting.

“…and of course, I have Logan to thank, too,” he says suddenly, drawing Logan’s attention, “I mean, he did provide the background vocals _and_ the instrumentals for a few of the songs. I don't think I'd be here tonight if it weren't for him.”

He smiles up at Logan, and the photographer definitely manages a shot of Logan beaming down at him.

They move on after that, and Julian politely answers a few more questions. He poses for pictures, even dragging Logan into some of them. Eventually, they reach the doors of the building, and Julian hesitates.

“Hey,” Logan says softly, “It’s gonna be fine. Whatever happens, it’s going to be okay.”

Julian smiles. His hand finds Logan’s, and he squeezes softly.

“I know it is,” he says, “I have you.”


End file.
